Mend This Tear
by information specialist
Summary: Alternate title: Why Jane and Lisbon's relationship is so different in season 3. In the wake of "Red Moon" an event occurs which forces Jane and Lisbon to confront being on opposite sides of the fence. Spoilers for Ball of Fire and Red Moon. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**Mend This Tear**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

**Author's Note: The prologue takes place after the events of "Ball of Fire", and before "Red Moon". **

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**Prologue**

Lisbon got off the CBI elevator and walked towards her department. She smiled inwardly when she saw Jane sleeping on his couch, rather than holed up in his attic.

She vetoed going to her office and instead walked as quietly as she could down the hall to the kitchen, setting her bag, keys, and the box of donuts she had bought from Marie's on the table. She turned around to start the coffee when she heard familiar steps walk in the door. Her lips curved upwards. It looked like it was going to be a good day.

"Good Morning, Lisbon."

"Morning Jane," she answered, covertly taking in his appearance.

His suit was fresh, he only had one days worth of scruff, and his hair looked clean.

It was a good day.

"Yes it is," Jane said with a knowing smile. He joined her at the counter, his arm brushing against hers slightly as he reached out to switch on the electric water heater. "I see you've brought breakfast."

"It's only fair. You brought fruit last time. Oh wait, no you didn't," she teased.

"It's the thought that counts Lisbon," he scolded, before gesturing to the bag on the table, "And to return the favor you bring high blood pressure, diabetes, and cholesterol in edible form. You're far too good to me."

"A little indulgence never hurt anyone," she said airily, moving away from him to sit at the table, waiting for the coffee to brew.

"Says the woman who usually eats salad while the rest of us wolf down pizza," Jane stated, leaning against the counter, "You are in a good mood," his eyes twinkled as he looked down at her.

It was true. Lisbon was very wary of what she ingested. The donuts had been purchased on a whim. They were between cases and she thought it would be nice if the team had some breakfast together that morning.

Ever since she and Jane survived Rachel's kidnapping, she'd developed a new appreciation for the small things in life that just made it a little brighter. Seeing Cho's dimples as he laughed at a trick Jane pulled on Rigsby, Grace's lighter steps since she started seeing O'Laughlin, sitting on Jane's couch, arguing over whether being kidnapped excused forgetting to buy the boss an apple.

"Lisbon? You there?"

Jane was standing over Lisbon with her filled coffee mug, offering it to her.

"Yeah, just thinking that I have to finish the budget reports today."

"Liar," he said, steeping his tea. Shaking her head at him, she gathered her bag and keys and took her coffee to drink in her office, away from his prying eyes.

Lisbon unlocked her door and walked inside. Her eye was immediately drawn to a beautiful red apple on her desk.

I should be angry, Lisbon thought, bringing the apple to her face, eyes closing as she smelled its freshness.

Walking round her desk to sit down Teresa saw Jane standing in her doorway, teacup and saucer in hand.

"Just so you know that I'm a man of my word," he said.

"Trespassing is a crime, you know," she told him.

"Meh," coming inside to sit on her couch.

Lisbon hid her smile as she opening the drawer holding the budget reports.

It was the small things.

"So the pain's all gone?" she asked, by way of conversation, opening a file.

"Mm," he murmured, drinking his tea. "Believe me I have a newfound respect towards bovines now."

It would be another half hour before the team arrived.

Lisbon was telling Jane of her plan to send Van Pelt to a criminology seminar as part of her continuing education plan when Special Agent Hightower came in.

Jane didn't miss the look of endearment that crossed Madeline's face when she saw them.

Maybe he and Lisbon should get kidnapped more often.

The CBI Head told Lisbon that she'd gotten a call from a Sherriff Mullery in Vineland County asking for their help.

"It's a triple homicide and two of the victims were cops. I told him you'd check it out but that whether it becomes ours or not is your call."

"Ma'am?"

"He seemed very agitated. I didn't want to put you in a tough spot in case you decide it's something you'd rather not deal with," Hightower explained.

When she left, Lisbon glanaced at Jane, bewildered.

"I always said she liked you," Jane crowed, grinning at her.

"Maybe I'll get kidnapped more often," Lisbon told him ruefully, hiding how pleased she was.

For a reason beyond her comprehension, Jane felt her reply warranted one of his blinding smiles.

"What?" she asked, a smirk spreading on her own face. Usually Teresa could withstand the contagious affect of Jane's grins but she didn't care to try this time.

"I had the same thought when she walked in. How strange is that?"

"Strange," Lisbon agreed.

"Our minds our in sync," he stated.

"Maybe," she said without thinking. Watching the delighted look on Jane's face, Lisbon quickly changed the subject. "Go pack your stuff. It's a long drive and I doubt we'll wrap a triple in a day. We'll leave as soon as the others get here. "

"No team breakfast?" he asked, in mock disappointment.

"We'll eat in the car," she said, biting into her apple with a smile.

It was a good day.

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**Author's Note: **

Okay, to those who've read the original prologue, I apologize profusely. I had so much trouble with this story and ended up reworking the entire format. For those who liked the original version, don't worry. It's the same plot. I just realized I needed to set up some groundwork for it. I guess this is what happens when you publish in haste while you're avoiding studying for your finals. Good news is finals are over, and now that I (hopefully) know what I'm doing I promise to get chapters out quicker, so please, please, bear with me. And maybe leave a review? I can't stress how helpful they are, especially since I don't have a beta.


	2. Chapter 1

**Mend This Tear- chapter one**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

**Author's Note: **This is so embarrassing, but to those who've already read the original prologue, I uploaded a new one so please go back and read that before this chapter. I apologize profusely. I had so much trouble with the story and ended up reworking the entire format. It's the same plot, I just realized I needed to set up some groundwork for it. Now that I (hopefully) know what I'm doing I promise to get chapters out quicker, so please bear with me. Again, I'm so sorry about the confusion.

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_**CBI attic; after Todd Johnson's arrest.**_

Upon their return to Sacramento, Jane had retreated to his attic, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Todd. The cop killer had been transferred to CBI, and even though Jane knew he was in lock up, he couldn't help the lingering fear of being in the same room with him.

It wasn't rational. With all the close calls he's had over the years, Patrick thought he'd built a pretty good defense against lasting effects from psychos; psychos who weren't Red John anyway.

This guy shouldn't have been more than a blip on my radar, he thought.

But the criminal's words and freaky eyes disturbed Jane; as did the obscurity surrounding his motivations.

Why cops?

Fed up with contemplating the creep, Jane concluded that Todd was just another mentally disturbed man.

Who knows why the hell they do what they do, he told himself.

He had a more important person to brood over.

Lisbon had really gotten under his skin during this case.

In more ways than one, he thought, remembering his brief glimpse of a 'just woken up' Lisbon.

But what had really set his blood boiling; and not in a good way, had been his talk with her about revenge.

The catalyst had been Teresa preaching to Todd (whom at the time was just a bereaved fiancée as far as they both knew) that revenge didn't work.

It had annoyed Jane. She was either saying that stuff for his benefit or she was being a hypocrite.

Either way, he hadn't been able to keep quiet.

"Well that's a sweeping statement isn't it? I'm sure we could all think of examples where revenge worked splendidly." _  
_  
Lisbon hadn't been amused.

"Thanks for your input," she'd stated, clearly displeased with him. But Patrick hadn't really cared. It had felt good to say, to get off his chest.

It could have ended there. But Lisbon hadn't been able to hold her peace on the matter either.

Later, in the privacy of the car, she chastised him on the inappropriateness of his comment.

"Examples where revenge worked splendidly. Nice."

"Oh I was just teasing," he'd said, playing down his annoyance before explaining its source, "A little hypocritical of you to lecture him on revenge, don't you think?"

As far as he was concerned, Lisbon had practically been asking for it.

"How's that?" Lisbon demanded, indignant.

"Uh, all these years you've been helping me seek revenge."

He found it strange, and a bit disconcerting, that he had to point the fact out to her. Like she didn't realize that's what she was doing.

"That's different," she declared.

It was his turn to ask for an explanation.

"How's that?"

"I'm in control of the situation." Teresa was annoyed that she had to spell it out for him.

"Oh, really." Jane was quick to scoff, dismissing the reply as just a flimsy excuse for her double standard.

But when she changed the subject to the case, it occurred to him that she might have been serious. And if she was, that created a concern for Jane he needed addressed.

After answering her query regarding the victim's bike, Patrick backtracked to their earlier topic.

"What do you mean you're in control of the situation?" he asked, turning towards her expectantly; entirely focused.

He had to know.

"When the day comes, when we find Red John I'm going to be there to stop you from doing anything foolish. We're gonna put him in front of a judge and a jury."

"You really believe that?" He'd asked, eyes searching thoroughly for any indication that she was bluffing.

"Yes I do."

"Really?" he asked once more, though he didn't see any tells of deception, "I just assumed you took that judge and jury stuff with a grain of salt."

It was a lie. Jane knew Lisbon had been serious about arresting Red John the first time he told her his intention for revenge almost two years ago. But what Jane _had_ assumed was that she'd eventually come around to his point of view.

"Well you assumed wrong. No salt," she stated, confirming his suspicions.

It must have been wishful thinking on my part, Jane thought, gazing at her intently.

Couldn't she see that Red John would never be imprisoned? That he deserved to die? Did she really think Jane would allow his family's butcher to be placed in the flimsy hands of the legal system? Where he'd probably escape before a trial date could even be set?

_Over my dead body.  
_  
"You know the reality will be different. Red John is mine, and I will exact my revenge on him," he'd said, his tone hard. Patrick wasn't sure if it was a threat, or a warning, but he wanted Lisbon to have no uncertainties whatsoever regarding his intentions.

She had to know.

Interestingly, (and frustratingly) his vow didn't affect her as much as he thought it would.

"I think, when the time comes, you'll see that violence is not the answer." Lisbon chose her words carefully, leaving no room for argument.

Jane had been almost insulted by the calmness of her tone; even though he knew it was forced.

The rest of the ride was silent. But when they reached the local sheriff's office, Jane's irritation had bubbled over and he found himself mocking her.

"I had no idea your naive optimism was so deeply grounded," he scorned.

"Hush." Teresa refused to be goaded.

"Hush," he mimicked her, for lack of a cleverer retort.

But 'hush' was a good word, Jane decided. It was safe, familiar, and brought them back to more even ground.

Then Ellis Mars approached Lisbon and his attempt to play psychic allowed them to share an amused grin at his expense.

And just like that, they were back to normal.

**Normal? Who are you trying to kid Patrick?**

Jane closed his eyes.

_Hello Angela_, he said wearily, stealing himself for the affectionate lecture he knew was coming.

**Normal is when you don't threaten your boss. Normal is when you don't undermine her in front of **_**her**_** boss. Normal is-**

_You know what honey, I'm sorry, but could you leave me alone for a while, I've got a lot on my mind right now.  
_**  
Normal is when you don't ogle your boss's sleepwear,** Angela continued, undettered.

Here Jane actually blushed.

_I didn't 'ogle' her. _

**Oh, sure, you tried to be a gentleman and look away. But it wasn't easy was it? I mean, how cute was she in that huge jersey? It was practically falling off of her.**

_It's not like I haven't seen her in one before, _Jane argued.

**Yeah, but you sure weren't as interested at the time, were you? I saw you trying to look through the peephole, and trying to find a gap in her curtain.**

_Seriously Angela, you can go away now, _he said crossly.

**Aww, you were always cute when you pout.  
**  
Patrick smiled ruefully to himself, closing his eyes against the mist.

He missed her so much.

Before he could lost himself in bittersweet memories, Jane heard familiar footsteps approaching his door. He barely managed to compose himself before the woman in question appeared. Lisbon told him told him that Todd wanted to see him. He had a secret to tell.

"A secret huh?"

"That's what he said. That you were the only one who would understand. That you and he had and connection."

"Meh. He's just trying to lend an air of mystery to his sad little story of madness."

That had been Jane's final conclusion. It didn't answer his questions but would at least allow him to move on and forget the disturbing case.

Only Lisbon wasn't cooperating. She's been doing that a lot lately, he noted.

"The case would go a lot easier if he talks," she pointed out.

"I have spent enough time with that creep, staring into the abyss, you know, it's not healthy," Jane said lightly, even as he wished she would actually take his words seriously.

But it wasn't to be.

"Please. Just hear what he has to say. He's right downstairs in the holding cell."

It wasn't like her to be so insisting. Jane figured making him earn his keep must be her own way of seeking 'normal'. He could have refused but he didn't want to shake their barely restored equilibrium. More importantly his curiosity got the better of him.

So he went, motivated by the same reason he'd asked Lisbon to take the case in the first place.

A strange feeling that it mattered somehow; coupled with a dark foreboding.

That feeling turned into full blown terror when the cell was opened and Jane saw Todd burning alive.

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**Author's note: **

Those who've read Empty Glamour probably recognize the pattern here. I'm going to be doing a lot of introspection using dialogue from the episodes and weaving it throughout the story. But the difference here is I'm actually inserting an extra plot as well (gasp!). It's why the format had been driving me crazy. Then Angela insisted on being included and this story, which was originally only 4 chapters long, turned into a soul-searching journey which is going to last at least 10 chapters. I've used this style in a story for another series (CSI NY) and it worked out pretty well; but the characters were nowhere nearly as complicated. I'll try to keep it as light and painless as possible and hope to finish it quickly as I've got quite a bit written. I'd really appreciate any input you can give me. I'm swimming in deep waters here. Let's just hope I don't drown.


	3. Chapter 2

**Mend This Tear- chapter two**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Teresa sat in her office, supporting her head in her hands. She had just left the hospital where Patrick sat in vigil near Todd Johnson's bedside.

She couldn't understand what he hoped to gain by staying there. Johnson was dying. The doctor said he probably wasn't going to wake up. She'd shared this information with Jane but he hadn't budged from his seat.

Perhaps seeing Todd burn had gotten Jane to sympathize with him. Removing her hands, Teresa allowed her head to fall on her desk.

How the hell did this happen, she wondered. Was the CBI building really that penetrable? Hadn't they stepped up security after Bosco and his team were killed?

For now, Lisbon refused the obvious conclusion of the perp being an insider. The senior agent couldn't handle thinking about that happening again.

The PCU better find out who did this, she thought, attacking her paperwork. But frustration kept blurring her eyes, breaking her focus.

I shouldn't have left him there, Teresa thought, I should have made him go home.

Watching him from the ICU room's doorway, she almost had, too, but chickened out.

A bitter smile played on her lips as she realized the irony of her situation.

_All this time I've been hounding him for detaching himself, and now when he needs me I'm doing just that. _

The part of her that was his friend was screaming bloody murder. But the part of her that was his boss told her she needed to stay away from him; pointed out that only a couple of days ago Jane had reiterated his intention of killing Red John. That she couldn't afford to get emotionally invested.

The boss was winning, but the friend protested she already was invested, had put a lot of eggs in this particular basket.

_More like 'basket case',_ the boss retorted.

Shutting both voices out, Lisbon headed to the small kitchen to refill her coffee mug, fully intending to tackle her forms with new resolve.

To her surprise (and relief) Jane was in the break room staring at the water kettle, waiting for it to boil.

"You're back."

"Hmm," he answered without looking at her, then, "Todd died, so there wasn't much point of my being there anymore."

Lisbon didn't know what to say to that. Outwardly Jane looked calm. Inwardly, God only knew.

The pot whistled and she watched him carefully pour the boiling water into his teacup.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't know how to reply to that either. Jane didn't wait for her though.

"I'm going to be upstairs, working," he said not so subtly.

Lisbon finished the rest of his statement in her head: _So don't bother me. _

Watching himadd more sugar than usual to his cup, a thought occurred to her.

"Jane, did Todd wake up? Did he say anything to you?"

"No," he answered before leaving.

Lisbon cursed to herself, wondering if he was lying to her.

But why would he lie about that?

It struck Teresa that Patrick might be punishing her for pushing him to talk to the guy by withholding the very information she had wanted.

The fact that she could think such a thing distressed her. Jane wasn't that petty…she hoped.

_I'm being completely paranoid._ She thought firmly, returning to office.

Jane hadn't planned on returning to CBI when he left the hospital. But he found himself parked at the building, thinking he had nowhere else to go but his attic. He stopped at the kitchen to make himself some tea when he ran into Lisbon. He was just lucid enough to register her concern before brushing it off. Then teacup and saucer in hand, he headed upstairs, hoping to gather his wits after Todd finally succeeded in shattering them.

For a long time Patrick wrote feverishly in his notebook. Todd's dying message could only mean one thing; he was one of Red John's minions. But why did he ask for Jane? Had he actually wanted to confess? Was it even possible to turn one of Red John's men? How many followers did he have?

_Hardy, Rebecca, now Todd._

Jane had killed Hardy. Someone, he thought maybe Red John, had killed Rebecca. And now someone killed Todd to silence him.

_Another operative? Red John himself? Someone in this building? _

Questions; all Patrick had were questions and no answers.

At least one thing was finally clear to him; the reason he had insisted on taking the case.

Somehow Jane had known that Red John was involved, though he still had no idea how he was able to tell. There hadn't been anything to indicate Red John's involvement. Had it not been for Todd, Jane would have never known.

Todd Johnson.

Jane had sensed that there was more to the man then meets the eye from the very beginning. But it took him onger to realize what he was. Jane only called him a "garden variety psychopath" to anger him; to con Johnson into giving a piece of himself away. It hadn't worked. He was as rare a breed of psycho as Jane ever saw. For all his years in law enforcement, this was the first time Jane encountered a criminal he truly couldn't begin to comprehend.

Red John's other followers had been much easier to understand.

Hardy's father, Orvil Tanner, was Red John's friend. So the man was probably predisposed to committing crimes. Red John had further ensured Hardy's allegiance by giving him Maya, the girl he had been obsessed with.

Rebecca had also been an easy case to crack; abused as a child; she'd lost her humanity at an early age. Red John had given her understanding, acceptance and love. At least, she thought he had.

Todd Johnson, on the other hand claimed he was raised in a loving home. So was his deviance caused by Red John? The thought that the serial killer could twist a person so badly was almost too much for Jane to handle.

And yet, Red John had managed to convince Kristina that she was dead, Patrick remembered with dread.

He decided that it was useless to ponder Red John's methods of manipulation. There was a more pressing matter at hand.

_Why kill cops? _

Had Red John ordered it or was that just a quirk Todd had that Red John allowed?

"There's a reason for everything I've done," he had told Jane.

Patrick rubbed his face anxiously.

_I'm becoming obsessed. _

Even dead, Johnson wouldn't leave him be.

But the mentalist couldn't help wondering what secrets had lain in those deceptively innocent, terrifyingly evil eyes.

A wave of nausea hit Patrick as he was bombarded with flashes of the criminal; each more disturbing than the next: Todd trying to shoot him, coming towards him with a knife, Todd in this very attic, alone with him.

The man could have killed me right here, Patrick realized, his heart thumping with horror.

He didn't want to remain in the attic, didn't want to be alone anymore. The smell of burning flesh accompanied by an image of Todd burning alive became the last straw, propelling a shaking Jane downstairs.

It was late when he entered the bullpen to lay on his couch. The floor was empty and quiet, though he could hear some horsing around upstairs. Patrick surmised that to mean it was the organized crime unit's turn to take the night shift.

Usually Jane didn't mind the clatter; rather he found it relaxing; like the ocean. But his current melancholic spirit didn't liken the noises to calming lazy waves. Instead he found them to be more more like a stormy ocean's roar; dark and terrifying.

Even the light in Lisbon's office alerting Jane to her presence didn't offer it's usual comfort. Her blinds were drawn and he wouldn't intrude on her space, not after telling her to leave him alone.

It didn't help that Jane wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see Lisbon.

**Sure you do. **

Her stance on justice was becoming evermore infuriating, especially in light of this latest Red John development.

Niave, stubborn little fool, he thought cruelly.

**You're just annoyed ****there's actually someone you haven't managed to transfix. That despite consistently bending her to your will, when it actually counts, Teresa Lisbon is perfectly immune to your charms.**, Angela stated, refusing to be ignored.

_You know what, this isn't funny anymore,_ Jane snapped to himself, sitting up from his couch.

He wasn't sure what he found more irksome; the fact that his subconscious conjured up his wife at the most inopportune moments, or that his wife seemed to constantly be against him.

Either way, Angela wasn't helping. And Jane didn't want to have this argument when Lisbon was right there, just a few feet away. Who knew how he'd react if she came out and saw him. Glaring at her door one last time, Jane left to finish his fight with the "Mrs." in the privacy of his car.

_Okay, for the record, I didn't try to charm or transfix her-_

**Because you knew it wouldn't work,** Angela interrupted.

_We had a candid conversation,_ Jane continued, ignoring her jibe

**Which makes it even worse doesn't it? That playing it straight didn't work on her either.**

_What's with all the snark? _Jane complained. _You're almost starting to sound like Lisbon._

**You're asking me? Can't you read your own wife? Your own mind?**

_You know, since you are just figment of my imagination, I can make you go away whenever I want. _

**But you won't. You love me, and you miss me too much. **

Jane's gut constricted. An intense pain gathered at the base of his throat so abruptly he almost choked on it.

Luckily, his hotel was near CBI. He managed to make it into the room before the grief completely took over.

* * *

**Author's note: **

*ahem* Can those who read the original prologue pretend that this was the first time you've read parts of this chapter? Thanks. Oh, and if you'll do the same for the next chapter as well that would be great. After that, it'll be all new, I promise. Now, I know this was kinda dark, and it'll be so for a while, but I promise it'll get better so please be patient. I'm aiming to have this finished in February. It's very ambitious, but I'm between semesters now, and I want it off my mind before school starts again. Reviews help so I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to tell me how I'm doing. Knowing what works and what doesn't makes me write better. Oh, and thanks to everyone who favorited, and alerted. I hope you're enjoying this and thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 3

**Mend This Tear- chapter three**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Lisbon lets herself inside her condo with a weary sigh.

Despite Jane's request to leave him alone (and her own self preservation telling her the same) she'd gone to check on him before she left work.

She'd found the attic empty.

It worried her, because she wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. Had he gone to his hotel, or driven to Malibu, as she knew he was prone to do sometimes when he was bored, or on the weekends.

Or when things got truly bad, Lisbon adds in afterthought. She hopes he's at the hotel. Malibu is six hours away. It was dangerous driving at night, especially when one hasn't been sleeping well and is distracted.

Trudging upstairs to her room; steps heavy with melancholy, Teresa thought she must be as depressed as Jane was, though she has much less reason to be.

No, I'm depressed, _because_ he's depressed, she admitted.

Dropping her jacket and bag on the floor, Lisbon threw herself on her bed, trying to work out when her mood became so invariably tied to his.

She couldn't.

Turning onto her back with a sigh, she reflected that she'd known Jane was trouble from day one.

And that had been before his family was killed.

So why had she agreed to work with him? Why had she persisted in working with him, letting him continue with the Red John case even after his family was killed?

He closes cases.

It's what she told everyone, and it was true.

After her brothers had grown up, all Lisbon had left was the job. She lived to bring criminals to justice and to provide closure to victim's families. To do so, she would use every tool at her disposal.

Even if said tool acted like a tool most of the time, she thought wryly.

He closes cases.

Sam Bosco had asked her once if that was really all it was. She knew what her one time supervisor and longtime friend had been insinuating: that she was in love with her consultant.

It was ridiculous. Jane had been married when he joined CBI. She'd signed on with him for his talents, end of story.

Sam knew this, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling jealous. After all, he'd been married when she came to work under him in San Francisco. That hadn't stopped them from unconsciously developing feelings for each other.

Jane, however, was completely different. Lisbon hadn't even liked him at first. She rather considered him a necessary evil.

Unwilling to defend herself; Teresa hadn't shared this information with Bosco; she had refused to dignify his question with an answer.

But now she wondered if maybe, more than finding Bosco's statement far-fetched; she'd simply not wanted to consider its validity.

Because although what she said had been true, Jane _did_ close cases, it hadn't been the whole truth, at least not for the last couple of years.

Had she fallen in love with him? She certainly loved him. She also loved Van Pelt and Rigsby and Cho. They were a family.

She did worry about him more than the rest of them, but that was natural wasn't it? None of the others got in as much trouble. None of them had their family killed by a serial killer they've been trying to help her catch.

Lisbon bolted upright from her bed.

No way, she told herself, no way was she going to feel guilty for his family's death. That would take her to a whole new level of self flagellation. Teresa held onto the belief that she wasn't a complete masochist. Not yet anyway.

The brunette changed into her sweats. She was tired, and it was late, but her thoughts had left her far too antsy to sleep. She'd run off her mood, and then sleep like a baby after passing out on her bed.

At least that was the plan. Something felt off to Lisbon the moment she stepped out of her condo, like she was forgetting something. The slight fog only added to her sense of unease, but eager to start her exercise, she ignored the inkling.

Teresa always ran the same route; the edge of the woods adjacent to the highway closest to her home. It wasn't designated for joggers, but she preferred it to the park which was usually occupied by boisterous teenagers at night. And the familiarity of the trail enabled her to exercise without paying attention to her surroundings. With her body moving on auto, her mind was left to wander freely allowing her to digest and reassess the day's events.

Along with soaking in her tub, thinking while jogging was Lisbon's favorite respite from the aggressions of her job.

Evaluating her decisions made her feel in control. Even when her analyses led her to discover shortcomings or better alternatives to decisions she'd already made, Lisbon never let it get her down. It was part of the process. She'd simply acknowledge her mistakes then let the negativity seep out as she pounded the pavement, resolving to do better next time.

But this night her conscience kept rearing its ugly head, thwarting her plans and compounding her agitation instead of allowing her to overcome it.

It pointed out that she could have done without Todd's statement. That she had let her attention to detail take priority over Jane's unwillingness to be in the same room with the man. Lisbon was usually more understanding; more sympathetic. But that day she'd been too preoccupied to try digging into Jane's psyche.

The case had rattled Teresa. Patrick had brought into the open dirt that had been swept under proverbial rug. Not forgotten, never forgotten, just hidden and therefore easier to ignore. Hightower had also refused to listen to her and unknowingly went along with Jane's plan (which admittedly, turned out to be a good one). Then, to add insult to injury, Todd refused to talk to her, said he wanted Jane.

Needless to say, Lisbon hadn't been overly concerned with the Jane's sensibilities when he expressed his reluctance to see Todd . She'd just assumed his was being lazy. So she'd pleaded until he agreed to go; sent him to witness that horrifying scene.

As if his life wasn't hard enough, she thought.

Teresa couldn't imagine what Patrick must be going through now. It was true that he was emotionally resilient; that he was still sane was proof of that. But he wasn't exactly known for his strong constitution. Jane didn't handle the macabre very well.

He had looked positively haunted when Lisbon saw him earlier at CBI, making his tea in the kitchen. But despite feeling gutted for him, she had not, _would not, _apologize for putting him in that situation.

Because you don't give in an inch to Patrick Jane; he'll hang you with it.

Speeding up her jog slightly, Lisbon remembered back to when Jane shot Hardy, saving her life. It had been a big favor, to say the least, especially since Hardy took whatever he knew of Red John to the grave with him. Teresa hated feeling beholden to anyone, least of all Jane. But it never occurred to her that she'd been cutting him slack because of it until Minnelli raised the question. Or that Jane would take advantage of the situation until he'd insulted her and her team, saying that they wouldn't be able to cope without him. That was when Teresa realized that Patrick had been abusing her gratitude, though she never knew if he'd been doing it intentionally or not.

Jane had later joked that she resented him for saving her, so he'd probably come to the same conclusion at some point.

Thank God for superiors. They always put things in perspective.

At the time Minnelli had taken the Red John case away. Although Lisbon had been angry at first, she later came to appreciate the decision. It had lifted a huge weight off her shoulders.

There was no chance of that happening again, not after Red John killed Bosco's team. Not with Hightower as boss who saw Jane as her Golden Boy and Lisbon as a scapegoat for when things got bad.

Still, Teresa was starting to feel a new appreciation towards her new boss. Madeline was a hardliner, but like Minnelli before her, she'd helped put matters into sharp relief for Teresa.

"_Your job is not to trust him. Your job is to trust your own instincts." _

Lisbon had smarted from the reprimand at the time, but she now felt eternally grateful for the clarity it gave her.

I have no reason to feel guilty, Teresa told herself, not realizing she was dashing instead of jogging. In pushing Jane to see Todd, I was just doing my job, making Jane do his.

Too soon, Lisbon reached the bend in the road where she usually doubled back. But she was too hyped to stop. This unfamiliar part of the path was alongside a small exit ramp off the highway that was only used by truckers. It was quiet, eerie even, but Lisbon was too lost in thought to become aware of that. She did notice that the streetlights were spaced further apart so it was darker. She welcomed the gloom; let it consume her as she knew it consumed him.

"_Red John is mine and I will exact my revenge on him."_

If she had any sense of survival she'd report what he'd said to Hightower and get rid of him. But no, looking out for others was in her core; and Jane was no exception. Even if he all but told Lisbon he was unfixable.

It had been the day he killed Hardy, saving her. Jane had set himself up as bait for Red John. She'd shown up early, fearing for his life, and he'd berated her for it. Said he didn't care if he lived as long as Red John was caught.

It had hurt. Jane had been so lost in his disappointment that he hadn't seemed to register Lisbon's words that there were people who cared about him that needed him. The mentalist who saw all couldn't see that _she_ cared about him, that _she _needed him.

Or maybe he had, but refused to accept her words; they would have gotten in the way of his self-pity.

"Some things you just can't fix."

As if Lisbon didn't know that. But the fact wouldn't make her give up; it wasn't in her nature. She'd fight for him, like she fought for her brothers. She looked out for them when there was no one else; made sure they did their homework, fed them, shopped for them.

And that was the easy part. The hard part had been keeping teenage boys out of trouble. She remembered once telling them that she didn't care if they ended up hating her, she'd do what it took to keep them safe. That had been the time she crashed one of James's friend's raves. A few kids overdosed the next day. It had been after she dragged them out of there.

And yes, they'd gotten ticked at her sometimes. Hell, Tommy probably still hated her guts. But she stuck it out because she had experienced the horror that comes from being unable to save someone.

She had kept them safe.

And she would keep him safe.

Yes, Lisbon knew full well that she couldn't fix everything. But she'd damn well try.

She wouldn't let Jane break like her father did. Not if she could help it.

But some days it seemed like she'd have to sacrifice too much; too much of her time, patience, career, sanity.

Love.

A memory suddenly came to Teresa; Patrick strapped by nylon in a chair, teenage bodies dead beside him.

Lisbon, so beside herself with worry she wanted to kill Jane herself.

A blood red smiley.

She stopped her mad sprint just in time to retch into the bushes on the side of the road.

It was only after her stomach stopped heaving that Teresa realized how erratic her breathing was; too much so to be caused by her run, or even vomiting.

Raising shaking fingers to her carotid, wanting to check her pulse, she felt sweat and tears she hadn't known she had been shedding running down her neck.

She could hardly inhale, and her breaths were getting shallower by the second. Teresa got out her cell phone and managed to dial 911 as she crumbled into the floor, her vision getting blurry.

Lisbon wheezed out a barely discernable 'help' to the operator before blacking out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

*Bites nails* Well? What do you think? (especially readers who've read the original first chapter). It's better this way, right? First timers, be sure to let me know what you think as well. Feedback is more precious than gold Also, I've worked on this till my eyeballs practically popped so I can't make out mistakes or typo's anymore. Please let me know if you find any errors and I'll fix them.

About Jane and Lisbon knowing each other before his family was killed, here's my reasoning: We know that Jane's family was killed because he talked about Red John on TV; he had been consulting with the "police" on Red John's case. And in "Red Moon", Lisbon talks to Jane about a former colleague: "Howard used to work here before your time, good guy". This means that Lisbon was with CBI before Jane started consulting for them.

That entails that he and Lisbon knew each other before his family was killed.

Of course, "police" doesn't necessarily mean CBI. Jane could have been consulting with the local cops then after his family got killed the case got transferred to CBI. But for the purpose of this story, I'm going with the assumption that he had been consulting with CBI when his family got killed, and that he and Lisbon had known each other then.

About Bosco and Lisbon: I don't believe they had an affair; I do however, think that she cared about him just as much as he did her; at least when she was in San Fransisco before Sam killed whoever it was he couldn't catch. I was going to write about this in a separate fic, but it popped up here. I might explore it further here depending on how the rest of the story pans out. Suggestions are always helpful.


	5. Chapter 4

**Mend This Tear- chapter four**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

"So tell me about your day. "

Cho lay his head back on the headboard of Elise's bed in mild irritation.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. We had an agreement," she reminded him, smiling encouragingly.

It had been a couple of months ago. The couple had been dating for a year and to celebrate their anniversary they had planned on spending an entire weekend together. Due to the nature of his job; that in itself would have been a novelty. He'd asked Lisbon for the time off and she had given it to him. But Teresa Lisbon had had to call him back in for the Bajoran case; they'd discovered that Walter Mashburn was being targeted and she needed Cho to guard the man

It was the job. And Cho loved his job. But he also loved his girlfriend, who had given him a hug and told him to be careful; understanding even when she was disappointed. It had stirred him.

"I'll make it up to you," Kimball had promised in a rare flow of emotion.

"I'm sure you will," Elise had agreed, already knowing what she'd ask of him.

When Elise had been attacked in her home, beaten in front of Kimball as a threat during one of his cases, Cho became very attentive. He'd even opened up to her; so remorseful was he over what had happened. They had gotten closer than ever; found a silver lining in their black cloud.

But as time passed and they'd both gotten over the scare; they'd fallen back into the normal pattern of silent nights and her trying to guess at what her stoic partner was thinking. Elise realized that they needed to make communication an ingrained part of their relationship; a ritual.

But she had been wary of sharing her idea with Cho, knowing he wouldn't want to.

The ruination of their anniversary plans finally gave her the perfect opportunity to do so.

The next time they met, she'd told him that they needed to 'talk'.

"You know Kimball, we're both busy people, we don't have a lot of time to spend together. So why don't we go for quality instead of quantity?

"Sounds good," he'd agreed readily. At least, it wasn't nearly as ominous as what he'd had in mind when she said they needed 'to talk'.

He had no idea.

"So, let's start out our evenings by you telling me a little about your day. Then we can move on to more fun things to do."

Cho realized that he had been conned, yet strangely he didn't mind. Elise had stuck with him longer than any other woman. She'd never complained about his abruptness or his lack of conversation. Even now, he knew she just wanted him to share enough to get to know him more; to love him more.

Most importantly, Elise made him feel like he was a good man; never held his past against him. He could even imagine himself marrying her.

If talking was what she wanted, he'd try to give it to her.

But to his surprise (and relief) she rarely invoked their agreement. He thought she must have forgotten it.

Cho now realized she was just biding her time. Elise didn't want to abuse their deal and had been waiting for when she thought he really needed to let off steam; when he was being even more close-mouthed than usual.

Like tonight.

The senior agent let out soundless sigh. The woman was smart. She'd even waited until after they'd finished 'more fun things' so that he wouldn't feel that she was using intimacy as a weapon. She was relying solely on his word.

"Come on Kimball. Tell me about work."

"It's really late," Cho said. Also, he had a headache but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Yes it is. So tell me what's bothering you. You'll feel a lot better and will sleep much quicker once it's off your chest," Elise said, leaning into him. She had an inkling it would be easier for him if he didn't have to look at her as he shared. She was right.

"It's been really tense," he started.

"Mhmm."

"The guy we caught, the case we just wrapped up? Someone set him on fire in his cell."

"Oh my God," she commented, raising herself up to look at him. Kimball nodded at her, before gently pulling her back to him, wrapping an arm around her, holding her head to his heart.

"Personally I could care less. I mean, he was a cop killer who also killed an innocent woman," he revealed, "But it's going to be a real pain. The higher ups are going crazy, which means boss is going to be facing a lot of heat. And she's already tense enough."

"You're worried about her," Elise stated. She wasn't jealous. She knew Kimball considered his team family and he held Teresa in especially high regard. She might have been worried if Kimball had been any other man. But her boyfriend was as honorable as he was handsome. And although Elise only met Teresa once she could tell she was a lovely woman.

"She didn't look good today. Something was off," Kimball added.

"You didn't ask her?" Elise wondered, even though she knew the answer.

"It's not something I'd do; although I might have today. But she was in her office all day; didn't look like she'd appreciate being disturbed."

"I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Yeah. It probably has something to do with Jane. He hadn't been around either; holed himself in his attic."

"You didn't ask him either?"

"Like Rigsby says, 'not touching that'. It's none of my business. Besides, I don't know what I might be getting into. Don't wanna know actually."

"You think they're in love?" Elise ventured cautiously. The little that Cho revealed about his colleagues had left her curious, but she never asked before now. Kimball was a fiercely private man who also respected the privacy of others. She was always worried he would think less of her for her interest. But now, lying against him listening to his musings, his hand stroking her shoulder, Elise felt confident enough to wonder out loud.

"I don't think Lisbon is. She's too smart to get involved with him. But she does care about him as much as any of us, and that's a pretty damn lot."

"You know, when we met, she seemed lonely," Elise said tentatively. She had noted that Teresa was drinking coffee, although the work day had been officially done. That meant she was staying at the office after hours, working. Elise had been just as much of a workaholic before Kimball came into her life; she had nothing else.

"She's got us," Cho said firmly.

He doesn't understand, Elise thought. Loyalty was all well and good, but nothing could substitute being in a warm loving relationship. But she dropped the matter. She didn't want to push her luck, not when their 'talk' was going so well so far.

"And Patrick?" Elise asked, moving on, "How does he feel about her?"

"He loves her." Cho said simply. Elise pulled back a bit from him to look at him in astonishment.

"Really?"

"Rigsby thinks so," Cho said.

"And you agree."

"I've seen the way he looks at her, like she's something precious."

It's the same way I feel about you, he thought, stroking her hair.

"Plus, he doesn't flirt with her anymore. Not consciously anyway," Cho added. Elise's delicate features scrunched slightly.

"I don't understand, Kimball. Why would a lack of flirting mean that he loves her. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Not with Jane. He used to flirt with Lisbon all the time to embarrass her. It was fun for him. So why'd he stop? I'm guessing he started getting uncomfortable with it because he started feeling more. It's not a game anymore so it's not as fun anymore."

"But if you're right, then why doesn't he just ask her out?" Elise asked reasonably.

Kimball smiled a rare smile, remembering that Van Pelt had wondered the same thing. A few weeks ago Cho had listened to his colleagues argue over their boss and the consultant. It was ironic how straightforward the women's perspective was. If anything it was the men (in this case, Rigsby) who were being all gray about the situation. Cho himself had come out of the conversation pretty much the same way he'd entered it: ambivalent.

He didn't want to see two people he cared about get together only to ruin each other.

The mentalist had helped Cho when his best friend David Seung got killed. Cho hadn't wanted to get involved but Jane had insisted he follow up on the case; to ease his conscience, he'd said. He'd even tagged along with Cho when he went AWOL and eventually came up with an idea to find David's murderer.

Cho can never forget a favor like that.

It made him realize that despite the man's aloof demeanor, Jane regarded them as family. That his annoying nosiness might even stem from genuine concern; at least sometimes.

Lisbon had also come through for him during the ordeal. As his boss, she could have penalized him for his disappearing act; for investigating on his own and not returning her calls. But she had been mostly relieved when he and Jane finally returned to CBI. Oh she'd threatened him with suspension if he ever pulled a stunt like that again; but he'd known her anger was out of worry, not resentment. Later, she even sanctioned Jane's crazy plan, despite knowing that lawsuits would be brought on her head. Cho knew she'd done so out of desire to catch Cho's best friend's murderer, and Elise's attacker. She never would have knowingly thrown herself to the wolves otherwise. Luckily, when complaint came, she had been able to deal with it deftly; as if it never happened.

The prospect of Jane and Lisbon being in a relationship was only agreeable if it meant their happiness. Good friends did not always make good lovers. Everyone knew that.

Even Grace and Rigsby's relationship couldn't last; and all they had to endure was working in a different place to stay together.

Jane and Boss have infinitely more baggage to contend with, he thought. Maybe that's what held the man from making a move.

But Cho did not like to speculate on unknowns. At least not out loud. Plus, it had been a long day and his head was still throbbing slightly.

"I don't know why he doesn't ask her out," he told Elise simply.

"Is it because of what happened to Kristina?" Elise of course knew about the psychic's disappearance, and reappearance. She had also known that Jane liked her. The day Patrick went out on a date with Kristina had been one of the rare times Kimball had smiled openly. He'd come home, dimples on display, and told her that Jane was going on his first date.

"Does he still have feelings for her?" Elise asked.

Cho quickly dispelled that notion.

"No. No way Jane's hung up on that psychic."

Although Cho had seen how frantically Jane had left the bar when he saw Kristina on television, how worried for her he was, and how depressed he became when she remained missing, he had also seen Jane with her after they found her. The consultant had sat with the unresponsive woman in one of the CBI interrogation rooms. Watching from the 2 way mirror, Cho could see that while there had been affection in his questioning, even tenderness, there hadn't been any love. In fact, when Kristina only responded to Jane under the guise of a séance, he had gotten angry with her, with her contention that she was dead. If nothing else, the haste with which Jane concluded his questioning, putting out the candle, giving up on her, was enough to illustrate how low she had become in his esteem.

Again, Cho didn't feel up to sharing all of this with Elise. So he just gave her the gist of his thought process.

"They only had half a date. It's more likely that he's afraid Red John will get Lisbon like he got Kristina."

Elise's fine eyebrows furrowed.

"Why would he think that? Didn't Red John go after Kristina for talking about him on TV? Why would Jane think it's because she went out with him?"

Cho studied Elise, thinking over her words.

"That's a very good question. I don't know," he said, gazing into her eyes, still running his fingers through her hair.

"You were right, you know," he admitted.

"About what?"

"This was nice, talking." His headache was practically gone.

"It's nice to listen for a change," she said, smiling beautifully.

"Don't get used too used to it," Cho said, leaning in to kiss her.

His cell phone rang on her bedside table. Sighing, Cho reached for it.

"It's Lisbon," he told her as he answered.

"Boss?"

"Hello?" An unfamiliar man said.

"Who is this," Cho demanded, immediately alert.

"Mr. Cho?"

"How do you know my name? Where'd you get this phone?"

"My name is Dan Keller, I'm a medic for the Sacramento EMT. Do you know a Caucasian woman, green eyes, dark hair, small build?"

"That's my boss, Teresa Lisbon. Did something happen to her?"

"Do you know any next of kin we can-"

"I'm here medical proxy. You can talk to me."

"Okay. We were sent to her location when she made a 911 call and the dispatcher was able to trace it. We found her collapsed off the side of a rode, barely breathing. We've stabilized her but she's unconscious and we have no idea what's wrong with her. It could be anything; an allergic reaction, respiratory disease. We found some vomit nearby, so it might have been a toxin. We're on our way to Sac General now. I thought I'd save the doctor's some time and see if I can get in touch with someone who can give us more information about her, better her odds for recovery."

"I'm on my way," Cho said, hanging up.

* * *

**Author's note: **Everyone, thank you so much for the reviews. There are invaluable. Please continue giving me your feedback. This story is a monster.


	6. Chapter 5

**Mend This Tear- chapter six**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Cho called Agent Hightower as soon as he left Elise's apartment.

"Agent Cho. I hope everything is all right," Madeline Hightower answered on the second ring. The sleepy lilt in her voice told him that she knew he'd never call her, especially so late (or so early), he thought, looking at his watch, unless there was a serious problem.

"Lisbon is in the hospital," he said, getting right to the point. "I don't know what's wrong yet and am on my way there now but doctors will want a copy of her medical history. I need you to call Human Resources and have them send a copy of her medical records to Sacramento General."

There was a pause on the other side of the line as the CBI Chief absorbed the rush of information she was just given. Thankfully, it was very short.

"Agent Cho, you know Human Resources do not have a night shift."

Kimball did know, but in his worry he had forgotten.

"And wouldn't the hospital already have her history on file?" Madeline asked reasonably.

"Boss's never been to Sac General," Cho explained. "She usually goes to a small clinic. But it won't be open now so I can't get her files from there. But CBI keeps copies of employee's medical records for insurance purposes."

"Yes, we do. Theoretically, I can have security let you in to get her file, but there is the issue of privacy to consider-"

"Not an issue. I'm her medical proxy."

Again, there was a pause on the other side of the line as Agent Hightower tried to remember if she ever read that piece of information in Lisbon's file. She couldn't.

"That's news to me Agent Cho but I'll have to take your word for it. I'll call security and clear it with them. Be sure to call me when you reach the hospital. I want to know how she's doing."

"Yes ma'am," Cho had almost hung up when but heard Hightower call out to him.

"Ma'am?"

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one."

"Don't you think Patrick needs to be told?"

"No. Why?"

Hightower stopped herself from sighing in frustration. She never liked dealing with Lisbon's right hand man. Although efficient, his abrupt manner left something to be desired. And he could be terribly obtuse when he wanted to.

"Call me as soon as you know anything," she said, before hanging up, thinking that she'd have to make the call to Jane herself.

As Cho drove to CBI, he deliberated Hightower's question.

She had a point. But the reason Lisbon made Cho her proxy in the first place was because of his discretion. That was what she told him, and if privacy was what she wanted, he'd give it to her.

Kimball didn't have to be a mentalist to know whom she was guarded against.

Jane constantly pushed himself onto their boss, invading her space both physically and emotionally. If he wanted to know what time it was, he'd grab her hand and look at her watch. If there was something going on with Lisbon, Jane wanted to be the first to know. At first, Cho thought it was because, as a 'hand's on' mentalist, the concept of privacy and personal space was not something Jane found useful in his line of work.

Later, Cho realized that what Jane readily labeled as nosiness was just an excuse to butt into the team's affairs without them realizing he did so because he actually cared about them. Cho also suspected that Jane's natural curiosity and 'touchy feely' behavior was something he simply couldn't turn off.

But Jane's run in with Red John proved that the consultant was perfectly capable of maintaining a professional distance when he wanted to.

Cho wasn't fooled. Like when Janestopped flirting with Lisbon, Kimball only took Jane's behavior change as further evidence of the profoundness of his feelings for Lisbon.

It made the Asian descendant realize that, unlike Jane's meddling with others, which was always calculated and planned, when it came to Lisbon, Jane's imposition was entirely wanton; like he couldn't help himself.

Why else would Jane resort to the extreme of physically removing himself from the woman's presence to maintain the distance he deemed necessary. Why Jane felt that distant necessary was beyond Cho's understanding, though his talk with Elise raised some interesting ideas in his mind.

The team knew Lisbon missed Jane. He was such a commanding presence that they all did. Kimball could only imagine how his boss felt having Jane suddenly disappear from her orbit, after being constantly gravitating towards her, irritating her till she kicked him out of her office, only to have him return shortly after, drawn back to her like a magnet.

So on the days that Lisbon came in to find the bullpen couch sans consultant, Rigsby would make an effort to draw the consultant from his lair while Cho became more vigilant than ever, working extra hard on whatever case they had, knowing it would please Lisbon. Because while Cho didn't believe Lisbon was in love with Jane, he knew the man's prolonged stay in the attic hurt her.

She looked like she lost her best friend.

The only time Jane even came close to sharing case-closed food with them was when he offered to buy pizza on the dead jockey's case. And even then, Cho suspected Jane had only done so to change the subject after the team realized he had let Grace get on a horse that might have been dangerous.

That had been a bad day. Cho remembered Lisbon had called Jane into her office and the door had been shut. He never knew what happened inside; Jane had gone home afterwards with a resigned look on his face. But judging from Lisbon's calm demeanor, Cho figured she must have made some headway with the emotionally suppressed consultant.

And yet, Jane's MO hadn't changed afterwards. He was as distant as ever.

Funnily enough, his and Lisbon's recent kidnapping by Rachel had helped bring them closer again. For the first time in a very long time, Cho had seen them sit together, share a laugh.

Lisbon smiling was a truly lovely sight; a rare blue moon.

But something must have happened during the Keeley Farlow case and Todd Johnson's death to once more create a distance between his boss and her consultant.

Cho wasn't sure he wanted to find out what happened. But what he did know was that Lisbon didn't need to be subjected to Jane's volatile mood. Not when she was sick and certainly not until Cho finds out what's wrong with her.

So no, he wouldn't call Jane. Not yet anyway, Cho thought, parking at CBI to get Lisbon's file.

When Cho arrived at the hospital, an ER nurse told him that the doctor had ordered some x-rays be done for Lisbon's lungs and that it might be a while before she was brought back.

"There was a pretty bad traffic accident, so priority goes to the crash victims since Ms. Lisbon's stable now."

"What are the x-rays for?"

"I'm not sure," the girl admitted. She looked young, Cho noted, "I just started my shift and the nurse responsible for Ms. Lisbon is with her right now. But you can wait by her bed. It's the one behind that curtain," she said, gesturing to the corner of the ER, "There should be a chair there too."

Cho nodded in thanks before heading over. Moving the curtain aside, he was shocked to see Jane sitting on the bed, dangling his feet.

"Hey Cho."

"Jane, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood. Decided to stop by, see if anyone I knew was at the hospital," the blond said with a smile.

"Hightower called you," Cho said in monotone. The smile left Jane's face as he stood up from the bed, hands in his suit pockets.

"Yes she did. It should have been you, Cho."

"Why? You next of kin?" Kimball deadpanned.

Jane's face was carefully devoid of emotion, but Cho noticed the next breath he took was a little deeper, as if he was calming himself down. He also noticed that Jane's eyes were puffy and slightly red rimmed, as if he had been crying.

"So have you seen her?" Cho asked.

"No. Nurse told me she's getting her lungs x-rayed. That was half an hour ago."

"They say why?" Jane shook his head.

"But I caught one of the medics that brought her in before he left. Said she was barely breathing when they found her. She also had cardiac arrhythmia and was slightly cyanotic."

Cho had spoken with enough forensic pathologists to know that meant Lisbon's pulse hadn't been normal and that her nails and lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.

"Who's her doctor?" Cho asked.

Jane pointed to an elderly man hovering over a bleeding woman on a stretcher.

"I think I heard someone call him Milton. I didn't get a chance to talk to him; he's been busy. But the medic did. Said he was pretty optimistic since she responded well to the steroids and oxygen she was given in the ambulance. Seems to think she might have just had an asthma attack."

Jane's tone indicated he didn't agree. Cho was equally skeptical.

"An asthma attack?" Jane nodded, understanding Cho's reaction. The diagnosis sounded so mundane.

"Wouldn't the EMT personnel would have recognized a simple asthma attack?"

"Apparently, she had a very bad one. Wasn't wheezing, which is one of the most telling symptoms."

"What about poison?"

"I already asked them to run a tox screen," Jane informed him, then gestured at the brown folder in Cho's hands.

"Is that her file?" Jane asked, pointing to a brown folder in Cho's hands.

"Yes," holding it tighter to him. He noticed that Jane hadn't said Lisbon's name once. Just referred to her using pronouns.

Jane nodded slightly. He had been avoiding meeting Cho's gaze ever since the latter asked him retorted that he had no reason to call him. But now he met his eyes.

"Why, Cho?"

He didn't bother elaborating; the Senior Agent was sharp enough to understand what he meant.

"I figured you were too busy with other stuff," Cho said noncommittally.

"More urgent than this?"Jane asked, managing to keep his voice steady, benign.

"You tell me," Cho deadpanned.

Jane was not as successful at keeping his skin from flushing, though neither man was sure if it was out of anger or embarrassment.

It wasn't that Cho wanted to jerk Jane around, but something Elise had asked him was making him want to antagonize the consultant.

"_Why would Jane think Red John went after Kristina because of him? Wasn't it because she talked about him on TV?"_

It was a very good question. It made Cho realize that Jane might be hiding something from them. Something important.

Something that might truly endanger Lisbon.

The tension was broken when a nurse and an orderly suddenly appeared, pushing Lisbon into the small curtained room on a gurney. They noticed that she had been changed into a short hospital gown. By tacit agreement, they respectfully removed themselves from the area as Lisbon was transferred onto the ER bed, not wanting to see any flesh that might inadvertently be revealed during the process. Cho noticed that Jane had a hard time doing so but refrained from teasing him. The man was obviously worried; peeping being the last thing on his mind.

They let themselves back inside the curtain when the orderly left, pushing the now empty gurney away.

Cho watched as the nurse, this one an older matronly type he noticed, fussed over Lisbon.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked, as the nurse placed two tiny short tubes at the base of Lisbon's nose. There were adjacent and extended from a larger, longer tube which was connected to a small tank attached to the wall behind Lisbon's bed.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine," the nurse said kindly, "we're just keeping her on oxygen as a precaution since we don't know what stopped her breathing in the first place."

"Not asthma?" Cho asked.

"That's the most likely reason, but the doctor needs to check her x-ray and medical history before he can know for sure."

"But she's fine now?" Cho prodded, since Jane decided to remain silent.

"Yes," the woman assured them.

"Then how come she's so out of it?"

"She's tired, dear. Plus, it is late," the woman said with a grin, "maybe she's just sleepy. Some of the medications she's on cause drowsiness."

Cho nodded and handed the nurse Lisbon's file.

"This is her medical history."

"I'll just get this and the x-rays to the doctor. I'm sure he'll be over as soon as he can," she said with a reassuring smile before leaving.

Cho settled down into the chair to wait. He kept himself busy by watching Jane stand over Lisbon, an unreadable expression on his face.

* * *

**Author's note: **

I have to give credit where credit is due: I got the idea of Rigsby trying to get Jane to hang out in the bullpen more from **mswyrr**'s fic, **Hummingbird**. You can find it in my favorites, it's a lovely story. Also, my baby brother (whose actually a teenager about twice my height) really helped out with this one; if nothing else, as a wall to bounce ideas off of, and vent to, so this chapter is dedicated to him.

Cho mentions in this chapter a conversation between Jane and Lisbon which took place in her office after the dead jockey case was solved. If you're interested, you can know what happened by reading my Red Ponies episode tag, "False Hope". It serves as a prequel of sorts to this story. I also posted an episode tag for Blood For Blood called "Bloody Trust" which will be this fic's sequel.

Reviews= love=better writing. Give generously :)


	7. Chapter 6

**Mend This Tear- chapter seven**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Jane had asked the nurse, as she fiddled with the oxygen tank. The kind woman, who introduced herself as Isabella, explained that it was just a precaution.

Jane waited for her to finish so he could take a better look at Lisbon.

Finally, the nurse moved away and Jane was able to come closer to Lisbon's bed. He tried to listen as Cho asked about their boss's status. It wasn't easy; it was as if the voices were coming from far away. Patrick could barely hear them. He did register Isabella's words when she said sincerely that Lisbon was fine, but it did nothing to reassure Jane.

How can she be fine? Her face was ashen, making her freckles more pronounced. Her lips looked dry, like she was dehydrated and there were tiny red dots, no bigger than pinpricks around her eyes. Petechial hemorrhaging, Patrick knew, due to some sort of trauma. Her lips and nails were bluish from lack of oxygen.

She also looked thin, tiny in her hospital gown. In all their years of working together, Jane had never seen her like this. Lisbon rarely got sick, and avoided anyone who was like the plague; threatening them with stake out duty should they infect her. Sure, she got a common cold a couple of times a year, usually around winter, but nothing that required her to take a sick day. Jane knew she only did so when she was overworked to the point of being physically unable to get out of bed.

Which is why he had a hard time believing the preliminary diagnosis.

He would have noticed if Lisbon had asthma wouldn't he?

One of his daughter's playmates had suffered from it. Whenever Nancy would come over she'd have an inhaler with her. And her parents always reminded Patrick and Angela that they needed to call them the instant their daughter exhibited any symptoms; wheezing, shortness of breath. Her mother had explained once that it was a chronic illness and that asthma attacks could be triggered by the environment; pollen, smoke, even perfume.

Jane also remembered that they could also be triggered by emotional stress.

Could this be my fault, he ruminated; aghast at the idea.

Jane knew he had been forceful with Lisbon during the Farlow case; first, in declaring his intention for vengeance, then keeping her in the dark about suspecting Todd.

But despite Angela's accusation that he had undermined Lisbon in front of Hightower, Patrick refused to be held accountable for his actions. He certainly hadn't intended to rile Teresa up. In fact, he still maintained that it had been mostly her fault...

Todd Johnson became Jane's primary suspect after he attacked Rusty, the diner cook, at CBI. The consultant had instantly realized that Todd's anger was fake and guessed that he'd come to their office under the guise of revenge when he actually just wanted to find out how far they were in their investigation.

But before Jane could share any of this with Lisbon she had ordered Cho to lock Todd up and charge him with assault. She then marched into her office. Her angry strides and refusal to look at Jane told him that she was trying to teach him a lesson through the EMT captain.

Well that was neither here nor there, Patrick had thought. They had a case to solve.

He followed Lisbon into her office.

"Let him go."

"Let him go?" she asked blankly, looking at him from where she stood behind her desk.

"Yes, let him go," Jane repeated, hands in his jacket pockets.

"The man assaulted a suspect in our own house, your fault, by the way for spurring him on with your 'revenge works splendidly' talk, why should I let him go?"

"Because he's a suspect."

"Is he now," Lisbon asked with a fake smile, sitting at her desk.

"Yup," Jane nodded.

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged.

"Right, I forgot. What's the fun in explaining your reasoning? God forbid I deprive you from your 'ta-da' moment," she said wearily.

"I'm so glad you understand," Jane grinned.

"Do I? You say he's a suspect but you could just be sympathizing with him. Maybe you want him free to commit his revenge when we catch the actual perp," she stated.

"Hmm. Tough call," Jane conceded, nodding, looking upwards to hide how fazed he was by her suspicion.

"So which is it?" Teresa demanded.

"He really is a suspect," Jane replied, looking at Lisbon with his best sincere expression.

Lisbon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Let's say I believe you, which, I'm not sure I do, half the floor saw the assault. It's not like I can just let Todd walk, no questions asked because you say he's a suspect. Especially since if that were true then we'd have even more of an incentive to hold him."

"Is this your way of saying we should take this to Hightower?" Jane asked impatiently, eyebrows raised.

Slowly, Lisbon lowered her hand from her face, and looked up at Jane, trying to understand what he was driving at.

Was he really threatening to go over her head if she didn't agree?

"So that you won't be held accountable if he ends up doing 'anything foolish', Jane explained, removing his hands from his pockets to gesture quotes with his fingers; using the same phrase she had when she referred to Jane's own plan for revenge.

Lisbon eyebrows got that line between them, a sure tell of her annoyance.

"Let's go."

It is difficult to say how much of their argument in Hightower's office was fact and how much was fiction.

They both tended to express more through their charades than they ever intended. It was why he was so hurt when she snapped "bite me!" during the haunted house case. And why he had frozen when she called him on his egotistical crap when they faked an argument in front of Hardy. And why his heart practically stopped when she threw a chair through her office window during her fake breakdown when she was accused of killing Mcteer.

Because none of those occurrences had been part of the plan.

That being the case, Jane felt he should have foreseen the cold war which ended up taking place in the Bureau Head's office.

"Vengeance is not legal, people need to know that," Lisbon had said emphatically, drawing Jane's eyes to her in quiet rage.

_Really? People?_ Lisbon couldn't have been more obvious if she had been pointing her finger at him.

_Well, if she was going to be that way...  
_

"So I have justice and humanity on my side while Lisbon has a teachable moment," he countered, asking Hightower to give him a chance to talk to Todd, that he'd make him forget about vengeance.

"You think you can do that?" Hightower had asked skeptically.

All he needed to say was yes. Madeline would have believed him. But he couldn't pass up the opportunity to put Lisbon in her place. As far as he was concerned, she had started it.

"I know I can. I've been there," he said beatifically, lying through his teeth to Madeline.

Patrick didn't miss the look on Lisbon's face, equal parts disbelief and dismay when her boss had completely bought his act.

Satisfied with his victory, Jane had caught Lisbon's eye before he left; daring Lisbon to contradict him, knowing she wouldn't. He had practically heard the sorrowful "touché" conveyed in her eyes before he left to talk to Todd to gain his confidence.

For once, Jane hadn't needed to lie to a suspect. Instead, he spoke from the well of darkness within his own soul. Leaving Todd to mull over his options, Jane headed down to make himself some tea.

Patrick's advice to the man had left him feeling hollow with knowledge that every word he had spoken was true. Glancing at Lisbon's office, Jane couldn't help the pang of guilt which came with the knowledge that when the time came, he'd do whatever it took to get Red John. The pang only increased when he saw her straightening her desk; a sure sign of her agitation.

His heart went out to the woman.

Teresa's 'vengeance isn't legal' statement had practically been a cry for help. Her old boss Virgil Minelli would have perfectly understood that she was alluding to Jane, not just the suspect. But the reference had completely gone over Madeline's head.

Jane knew that Lisbon hadn't intended to threaten him with exposure; that her statement had been an emotional outburst as a result of their revenge conversation the previous night. Even so, Jane hadn't been able to help retaliating; he had wanted to punish her. Watching her nervous hands flutter over her pens, Jane inwardly admitted that he had been irked by her idealism, her refusal to come around to his view. Mostly over the fact that, despite himself, he had been just as rattled by their stalemate as she was.

Feeling somewhat repentant for his unnecessarily demeaning behavior, Jane made a second cup of tea and carried both into Lisbon's office to make amends.

Watching her now, unconscious and small in the emergency room bed, Jane felt choked with the memory of how defeated Lisbon had looked when he left Hightower's office, and how upset she had been when he later came to her office.

Lisbon, bless her, had forgiven him like she always does. By the time Todd knocked on her door, telling them he was ready to talk to Hightower, they tacitly decided to put the matter behind them. Neither would forget what had happened; but they'd sure ignore it as long as they could. Instead of dwelling on the real source of their conflict, they sallied forth to finish the case, wanting to put the shift in their dynamic behind.

But now Jane wondered if, in fact, Teresa had remained upset, but kept that feeling hidden from him.

Patrick's stomach churned. He remembered how worried Lisbon had been a few months ago when he jokingly threatened her with revenge for tricking him into working the Harvey Dublin case. She had looked so struck and had been so nervous throughout the investigation that he had actually taken pity on her and told her that he wouldn't punish her. Lisbon hadn't been convinced. At the time Jane found her anxiety to be an amusing overreaction.

Yes, he had a mean streak, Jane had thought, but he'd never use it against her. At least he hadn't thought he would.

The consultant now knew that his boss's fears had been justified; that he wasn't above using her weaknesses against her.

"Jane!" Cho's sharp tone brought Jane from his musings.

"Yeah?" Jane replied, his voice a little raspy. From crying earlier that night, he told himself as he forced himself to focus on Cho. It was very difficult.

"You okay? That's the third time I called your name." Jane realized that the senior agent was standing quite close to him, and had a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," Jane replied, feeling his lips curving up into his default smile.

"Hightower needs me to come in tomorrow to fill for Lisbon. You're staying with her right? If so then I can go home catch a few hours of sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be here," Jane said absentmindedly, sitting down on the chair Cho had vacated, glad the man was leaving.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone! I'm so looking forward to tonight's episode and wanted to give you something to tide you over. This chapter featured one of the earliest parts I've written for this fic and I'm so glad I can finally use it. Please let me know if it's as interesting as I think it is. Also, don't miss LittleMenders's beautiful Valentine fic, Hearts and Chocolates. Also, *shameless plug* if you're interested in reading a review for the episode "Blood for Blood", you can find one I wrote by following the link on my author page. Happy late Valentines day: show your love by leaving a review ;)


	8. Chapter 7

**Mend This Tear- chapter seven**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

**She doesn't look good. **

_Thank you, Angela, for stating the obvious, _Jane replied in annoyance.

He should've known better than to think he'd get some peace after Cho left.

**I'm just here to help you sort out your thoughts. You should be grateful. **

_What's to sort out? _

**You're wondering if this is your fault. **

_No. _

**Patrick, I know you better than that. **

Jane could practically see his wife's long dark blonde hair tumble around her shoulders as she shook her head in gentle reproof; could almost feel her hand running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

_You're being surprisingly nice about this,_ he told her.

**I figured you're beating yourself up enough as it is. **

_This isn't my fault,_ he said desperately.

**I know baby, I know. But think about this: if Lisbon being merely sick has you so upset, how would you feel if you had to hurt her to get to Red John?**

Jane didn't even try lying to himself. The mere thought made his breathing go shallow, his heart pounding, and his mind racing.

Because despite all the confusion in his mind, Patrick was sure of one thing: Red john couldn't be captured; he'd have to be killed. Todd's death proved that. And although Lisbon didn't know Todd's involvement, she knew that Red John had cracked the CBI walls before when Rebecca was killed. If she insisted on getting in his way he'd do whatever it took to accomplish his goal.

_I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. _

**But it's starting to look like a real possibility isn't it? This is the second time she told you straight out she wouldn't let you get Red John. You'll have to go through her. **

_I'll find a way,_ he thought meekly.

**It surprised you the first time she said it, but you weren't very concerned. You thought she'd come around, that if you spent enough time with her, she'd start seeing things your way. Understand what must be done. But that hasn't happened, has it?**

_I'll find a way,_ Jane repeated, this time more forcefully.

**Well, antagonizing her isn't going to help matters.**

_I don't know what you're talking about. _

**Sure you don't. It's not like you're the vindictive vengeful type.**

Jane couldn't deny that. Not with what he had put Ellis Mars through….

It was bad enough that the man claimed to be psychic, but then had to go and try cold reading Jane, claiming that he 'saw' Patrick had fallen on misfortune.

Jane knew Mars couldn't have known how accurately he'd hit his mark. He knew full well that Mars has just been guessing; it was an underhanded trick psychics used to freak out potential clients. Patrick hadn't bothered concealing the rage he felt. Thankfully, Mars was smart enough to realize that he should back off. The man apologized and left, but not before leaving his business card.

And Jane had vowed that he'd pay him back if he ever dared show his face again.

And he had. As Jane suspected, Mars couldn't resist the chance of saying 'I told you so' when the Sherriff had been killed.

So Jane had felt no guilt whatsoever in using the astrologer in his calculated plan to lure in Todd.

Yes, putting Mars in his place, and terrifying him in the process had been gratifying, and Jane felt no remorse whatsoever.

_You are perfectly right my dear. But he got what was coming to him._

**And Teresa? Did she get what was coming to her? **

_In a way, yes_, Jane stated.

**I know you enjoyed taunting her at the time, but you weren't so pleased with yourself afterwards were you?**

_Not at all. After all, she'd asked for it. It was her fault. _

**Really? **

_Yes, really. _

**So why'd you apologize to her if she deserved it. **

_I didn't apologize. _

**You made her tea, Patrick. That counts as an apology…**

Waiting for Todd to come downstairs after their talk, Jane had made tea for himself, then, when he saw how upset Lisbon looked, made a second cup and took both to her office, opening the door with his elbow.

"Ahh, the leader of the revenge squad is here," Lisbon had greeted him with a wide smile, sitting down at her desk.

"That's funny," he said, approvingly. He was determined to keep the conversation light.

"You should start a cult. Who cares that you work for the leading law enforcement agency in the state. This way you get the best of both worlds. You catch criminals, and create new ones," she'd said coolly, gesturing with her hands first to the right, then to the left,

Jane could tell she wanted to throw her coffee mug at him. Instead, she reached for it to take a sip.

"Here," he said, placing one of the tea cups in front of her, "Drink this instead. It will soothe you."

"Why would I need to be soothed?" she stated, drinking her coffee, pointedly ignoring the tea, "It's not like my consultant just flat out lied to my boss." She didn't need to continue for Jane to hear the rest of her thought: _while rubbing his revenge in my face._

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Jane stated.

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not trying to be witty," Lisbon retorted.

Despite her coolness, Jane knew Lisbon was in fact reigning herself in from losing her temper. Normally, his instinct would have been to push her. But after their last managerial argument, he knew she'd be extra careful and wouldn't allow herself to be riled up easily. Plus, he found that he really didn't want to. He'd come here to fix things, not mess them up further.

"Look, Lisbon-"

"I understand you enjoy messing with me Jane," she interrupted, "but condoning murder is a new one," she said, her voice full of disdain, "can't you practice your religion without feeling the need to convert everyone else?"

"Hey, I went to convince Todd against revenge," Jane stated, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Sheepdip," she snapped, "you went to give him pointers. This goes beyond your personal vendetta. I can't keep quiet if start making criminals out of victim's families."

Jane's brows furrowed.

"I thought it was my job to catch criminals. Well, that's what I'm doing here. Todd's involved, I'm sure of it."

"You said that before, I didn't believe you," Lisbon reminded him. Again, he heard the rest of her thought as loudly as if she had spoken it herself: _and with good reason!_

Jane felt his expression soften.

"Lisbon, I'm not lying to you," he'd stated, his timbre mellow, "He's a viable suspect. I need him free because I'm going to be laying a trap for him later," Jane explained once more, patiently.

Lisbon looked resolutely into her coffee. Jane knew it to be a sign that her resolve was wavering, her anger was fading. She didn't want to look at him until she made her decision. Finally, she rolled her eyes to meet his.

"And if it turns out he's not the killer?"

"Then we'll catch the real criminal and put him in jail where Todd can't reach him," Jane promised.

Lisbon now studied his face. He could tell she was gauging him. She looked like she believed him, but that she didn't think it was wise of her to do so.

"You can trust me on this," Jane told her, voice soft, enticing in its honesty, hoping she'd notice he qualified the phrase for her.

When Lisbon put down the coffee and reached for the tea, Jane knew she had; that she'd trust him…at least _on this._

Watching her bring the teacup to her lips, Jane thought that there'd be plenty of time to show that he was trustworthy on other matters as well.

Before Lisbon could take a sip, a knock echoed into her office. They looked in unison and saw Todd at the door.

"Mr. Jane? I'm ready to see Agent Hightower now."

Patrick glanced at Lisbon.

"Coming?"

Wordlessly, she accompanied them, leaving the tea untouched.

By the time they returned to her office, the tea had gone cold, and to Jane's dismay, she threw it out.

**If it hadn't been a peace offering, you wouldn't have cared that she hadn't drunk it. **

_Think of it as a consolation prize. _

**For what?**

_For when I beat her to Red John. For when I kill him. _

**Not gonna work. She's not that easy. **

Looking at Lisbon now, pale and ill, Jane felt a surge of irrational anger with her and himself. He was sorry he had made the effort to appease her. With what he knew now of Todd and Red John, it would have been better in the long run if she had remained angry with him.

_The fool. _

**Patrick! That's not nice.**

_You know what? You're absolutely right, Angela. It's useless trying to make Lisbon feel better. From now on, I'm going to be a complete jerk, pissing her off more than usual, distancing myself more than ever. Maybe then she'll realize how serious I am about revenge. She'll stop holding out hope for me._

**Wait, that wasn't what I meant!**

_I know. But it's the right thing to do. I owe it to her, _Jane stated firmly.

**She's not going to let you. **

_She doesn't have a choice, _he thought darkly, satisfied in his plan.

Before Angela could protest anymore, Jane got up from his seat. He thought he saw Lisbon's eyelids flicker and he was caught in an odd state of wanting her to wake up, and wanting her to go back to sleep so that he'd have more time to compose himself. He suddenly realized that one of the fluorescent lights overhead has was flickering non-stop. Maybe if he could get them to turn it off, she'd rest more easily.

While he was at it, he'd see what the hell was taking her doctor so long to show up.

* * *

**Author's note:** I'm falling asleep her, but I wanted to give you guys something to take your minds off this weeks episode (right, like that'll happen). I thought I'd let you know that this fic is supposed to fit into the season's timeline between Red Moon and Jolly Red Elf. Jolly Red Elf takes place 2 days after Todd is killed. That being said, Lisbon's illness can't be something serious, so you can rest easy. Please let me know what you think. I'm starting school tomorrow ;_: so I can use some cheering up.


	9. Chapter 8

**Mend This Tear- chapter eight**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

The first thing Teresa saw when she opened her eyes was a flickering fluorescent light over her head. The first thing she heard was Patrick's voice. He had that high pitch he sometimes got when being particularly emphatic about something.

"Can you _please_ do something about the damn light?"

Teresa's bed was surrounded by a curtain, but there was a crack located conveniently right in her line of sight. She saw Jane standing, holding his jacket in one hand, the other in his vest pocket. He was arguing with a nurse.

"As I've ready explained, the lights in the ER cannot be turned off individually. We need to see to be able to see to administer to the other patients," the woman said patiently.

"Then call maintenance and have them remove the unit, I mean, it's not even working properly."

Lisbon snorted. The noise attracted Patrick's attention and he glanced through the gap he had purposely left open to keep an eye on her. Seeing that she was conscious, he walked over and pulled the curtain open to enter her 'room'.

"You're awake?"

As she sat up in her bed, Lisbon registered the relieved yet somewhat wary expression on his face. But like many things Jane, she didn't bother analyzing it. It would serve no purposed other than driving her crazy. She already had her hands, rather, her mind, full with what she couldn't let go of regarding her consultant.

"Your complaining is more annoying than that light," Teresa pointed out, attempting, and failing, to insert irony in her lilt.

He _would_ obsess over seemingly insignificant details and overlook the bigger picture, she thought. He's been like that since they met and she doubted he'd ever change, especially since he was usually right.

Patrick gave her a smug smile, and Lisbon knew that despite the lack of intonation in her voice, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She wrinkled her nose at him, conveying her disgust with his ego.

Their silent chat ended when her nurse joined them.

"Hello Teresa," Isabella said with a smile as she moved forward to take her temperature, "how're you feeling?"

"Fine."

"No fever. That's good. I'll let the doctor know you're awake," said the nurse.

"While you're at it, how about you ask him if, you know, he can take a look at her?" Jane gestured his head towards Lisbon, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Isabella ignored him. Having dealt with enough worried husbands in her time she knew he meant no harm.

As soon as the nurse left, Lisbon turned to look at Jane.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here? Jane countered. He draped his jacket over a chair near her bed before resting his hands on its back.

"An ambulance brought me, I think." Lisbon said dryly, wondering how long she's been there, wondered how long _he's_ been there.

"My car brought me," he told her, straightening up from the chair to roll down his shirt sleeves.

"Quit it."

"What?"

"Quit stalling. How'd you know I was here?"

"Oh, Hightower was kind enough to give me a call," he said with a pleased smile.

"Hightower?"

"Cho told her, and before you ask, EMT's called the first number on your speed dial when they found you. They reached him, he called Hightower, she called me.

Lisbon groaned.

"There was no need for her to find out, I'm perfectly fine!"

"Sure you are," he nodded smiling, "It's perfectly normal for someone to suddenly stop breathing and almost die."

Jane's voice had grown an edge towards the end of his sentence. He sounded almost accusing, like he was demanding an explanation. And in case she missed it, he made it obvious for her.

"You never answered my question. Why are you here, Lisbon?"

His interrogation was thwarted when Lisbon's doctor chose that exact moment to show up. He was an older man who looked a bit the worse for wear.

"I'm glad you're awake, Ms. Lisbon. You can help me clear some things-"

"Teresa," Jane interrupted. The doctor looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Lisbon knew that fact didn't bode well for the man considering how impatient Jane seemed with his tardiness, and his ill-timing when he finally showed up.

"Excuse me?"

"Really Dr…." Jane looked at his name tag, "Sherman. Has it been so long since you were a student that you've forgotten simple bedside manners? Patients feel better when you call them by their first name. It makes your interaction more intimate, thus lessens any fear they may have towards their predicament."

The befuddled man looked from the insulting blond man, to the stoic brunette patient on the bed who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. It wasn't hard to guess which of the two was really feeling fear.

"You are?"

"Patrick Jane."

"Patrick," the doctor said, using his best bedside manner, "I apologize for the oversight. It's been a long night. Now, if we can get back to the matter at hand?"

Jane, appeased, gestured graciously with his arm.

"By all means."

"Now, _Teresa,_ I have some questions for you."

"If it means I can get out of here ASAP then, fire away," Lisbon said, giving the older man an impressed smile. Besides Mashburn, she's never saw anyone manage to handle Jane so smoothly. And Mashburn didn't really count because he and Jane just got along naturally.

"So tell me what happened," Sherman asked, pen poised to take notes.

"Nothing. I got home from work, went out for a run-"

"We recently closed a grueling case out of town, followed by a pretty exciting day yesterday, and you decided to go for a midnight run?" Jane interrupted with a frown.

"It wasn't midnight," Lisbon started, but Jane was relentless.

"It was when they found you."

"And how would you know?" she snapped.

"I read the EMT's report."

The doctor coughed pointedly. They both looked at him sheepishly before Lisbon continued.

"That's basically it. I suddenly felt nauseous and stopped to heave into some bushes. That's when I realized I was having trouble breathing and called 911."

Sherman nodded.

"Now your x-rays are clear, so you don't have pneumonia or an infection. Your toxicology report was also clean…" The doctor trailed off when he realized that Teresa was glaring suspiciously at Patrick.

"Why'd you have them run a tox screen on me?"

"What? You were out of it and we just wanted to make sure you weren't poisoned."

"We?" Lisbon replied in distress. The thought of someone else seeing her in this state was worrisome.

"Me and Cho," Jane clarified, glad to share the blame, "apparently, he's your medical proxy, which by the way, I still can't believe. Just so you know, I'm completely devastated," he said in mock hurt.

"Cry me a river," Lisbon muttered.

Sherman tried to get back to the matter at hand. He tapped at her file in his hands, to draw her attention.

"According to your medical history-"

"How'd you get my file," Lisbon interrupted, eyes wide, before turning to look at Jane with apprehension.

"Cho brought it over," Jane said helpfully, "and no I haven't read it. Really, it's insulting you think I'd do such a thing."

"Can you blame me? You're appallingly nosy," Lisbon defended.

"I have other patients, you know," Sherman didn't bother keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

"Sorry doc," Jane appeased, knowing he'd already pushed his luck with man. He didn't want to get thrown out.

"Perhaps this will go quicker if done privately?" Teresa asked.

Jane's eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He didn't realize it was Lisbon he had to worry about. She continued, tone deceptively casual as she looked at her doctor, firmly avoiding Jane's gaze.

"I mean, is it usual for you to discuss a patient's condition in front of visitors?"

Jane kept his expression carefully neutral as he regarded her. He felt rather than saw the doctor glance at him before addressing Lisbon.

"I'm sorry, I assumed he was family."

"So did I," Jane, said, his tone just as misleadingly easy as hers had been. But his eyes bored meaningfully into her, knowing she could feel him staring even if she wouldn't look at him, and that she'd know what he was referring to.

A few months ago, she had chastised him for pulling away from her and the team. She'd told him that it was a betrayal because they were a family.

He was throwing her words back at her.

"Bite me," Lisbon murmured under her breath, still not looking at him.

"Maybe when you're feeling better," he shot back.

"Very funny," she said, desperately trying to quell the flush which was threatened to appear on her face.

But it spread to her ears and neck when, to her horror, Lisbon saw Dr. Sherman smile knowingly. She cursed Jane as she realized that doctor thought they were having a lover's quarrel.

Satisfied that Lisbon was too mortified to protest any further, Jane gave the doctor a disarming smile.

"Please continue," he said. Teresa consoled herself with the fact that Jane would have probably eavesdropped even if she had made him leave.

"Like I was saying, your file says that you have a running prescription for antihistamines but your previous doctor didn't bother writing down why," Sherman said, shaking his head at the negligence.

"I get allergies."

"What kind?

"Allergies," Lisbon said, widening her eyes at the doctor, as if it was obvious, "and it's not like I take the medication religiously, only when…"

Lisbon kicked herself inwardly.

That's what had felt wrong when she left her house. She'd forgotten to take her Zyrtec. And it was foggy that night, the weather had been stuffy and her running path didn't have the freshest air. Subconsciously, her body had known it was a bad idea to go out but she had been too stressed to bother figuring out why.

"When…," the doctor prompted.

"...just, when it looks like the weather won't agree with me, or when we go anyplace particularly dusty or smoggy."

"Or before you exercise outside..?"

"Yes…" Lisbon asked, looking at him suspiciously, watching him nod as he wrote something down. She was feeling very much like a suspect.

"Did you take it yesterday before your run?"

"No," Lisbon admitted.

"Why?"

"Well, like I said, it's not like allergies affect me daily I jus-"

"You'd forgotten to take it." Jane stated, tilting his head at her, looking as satisfied with his conclusion as the doctor was.

Lisbon was feeling oddly trapped.

"So I forgot to take my Zyrtec, it's not a big deal," Lisbon stated, as nonchalantly as she could, carefree to keep her eyes firmly on her doctor's. "It's just allergies," she repeated.

"I highly doubt that, Teresa. I suspect you've actually had asthma for years now, but it was misdiagnosed as allergies. Now, asthma is triggered by allergens such as dust, changes in weather etc. This is why you've been fine. Up till now, you've been taking the antihistamines which help prevent asthma attacks due to those factors. Realizing that you never experience discomfort on days when you took the medication, you foresaw the exacerbating symptoms and have been self-medicating yourself using your past experience. At least you're smarter than whoever your doctor was."

"How can you be so sure?"Lisbon demanded.

"You said your breathing got difficult while you were running. Exercise is another trigger for asthma. In fact, a lot of athletes have it. But the fact that you're okay now is all the proof I need. You got better on the medication we use that treats it. Make sense?"

Lisbon slowly nodded in grudging acquiescence.

"Good. Now, it's also possible for the attack to be triggered by emotional stress. So, any extra pressure recently? Maybe job related?

Lisbon didn't miss Jane's instant interest in this new line of questioning, even if she was only seeing him using her peripheral vision.

"I'm a cop. Stress come with the territory, that's not unusual," she said bluntly.

"What about personally?"

"Seriously doctor, this is just cause I forgot my Zyrtec. Now you can call it asthma or allergies or whatever you like, but I'm fine now so I'd like you to sign me out." Lisbon said in her strongest 'you'd better not cross me tone."

Jane found it amusing that Agent Lisbon only made her appearance when asked about her personal life.

"Sorry, Teresa. But you had a pretty bad attack. I can't let you leave before I make sure your oxygen levels are stable without help."

"He means, those tubes in your nostrils," Jane removed his hands from his pockets to point to her nose.

Lisbon promptly removed them.

"Hey," the nurse started.

"What? It's the only way to prove I'm okay, right. So how long before I can go?"

Sherman sighed. He hated cops. In reality, he could probably sign her out right now, but he wanted to observe her for a while, make sure she was okay. Plus she looked like she could use the rest. Looking at his watch, he saw, thankfully, that his shift would be over in a couple of hours.

"Keep measuring her oxygen levels. If it goes lower than normal let me know," he told the nurse, then turned to Lisbon, "If all goes well, you'll be out of here by noon at the latest."

Her frown told him she wasn't pleased, that she wanted out _now._

I really hate cops, Sherman thought, before moving to his next patient.

The instant the doctor left, Jane grinned at Lisbon and sat in the chair facing her.

"And you accused me of being a bad patient," alluding to the time he was blinded and had to stay at the hospital.

"I'm not a bad patient, you're just a bad visitor," Lisbon retorted, disheartened that she still wasn't able to inject her usual bite into her replies. She suddenly felt really exhausted. Looking at her watch, she saw it was 4:30 a.m.

Jane saw her practically deflating before his very eyes. As he suspected, she had just kept up a strong front for the doctor, hoping to be released quickly.

"Why don't you go back to sleep? I'll be here when you wake up."

"Oh joy," Lisbon she said, her voice barely higher than a whisper now due to fatigue. She lay her head back down on her pillow and closed her eyes as she brought the blanket up closer to her.

A tiny smile played on Jane's lips as he thought of how young she looked. He was about to tease her about it, but realized that she was practically gone.

"Sleep well," he whispered, unaware of the soft look on his face.

* * *

**Author's note: **

We're getting closer to the end. Thanks to everyone who favorited, alerted, and reviewed. Those I have been unable to respond to, please do log in so I can thank you privately (MeltedChoccoButton: about your comment that Jane's dialogue with Angela belongs to a different genre. Did you mean it's too humorous for an angst fic?)

As to the medical "facts" in this chapter; I am not a doctor, and do not pretend to be an expert on this subject, but I based the information on my personal experience with the disease and bit of internet research. Now that that's out of the way; how awesome was the last episode? It doesn't seem fair that I can equally love and be frustrated with it (enough with the thrillers!) Good news is, we have till may 10th to recover. Bad news is, that's a long time to wait for a new episode. I'll try to wrap this up in the meantime. Looks like I'll be missing my February deadline, but at least I have a new one now Don't miss Donnamour1969's Red Queen episode tag. Also, I was really nervous over it this chapter so please let me know what you think. I know they haven't really talked, but it just didn't seem like the right time.


	10. Chapter 9

**Mend This Tear- chapter nine**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Lisbon eyes snapped open with a small start, as if a loud noise had roused her unexpectedly from her slumber.

"You ok?"

She was curled onto her side, staring blankly at her hands on the bed in front of her. But the softly spoken inquiry had her jerking widened green eyes until they focused on its source. Jane was sitting in a chair only a couple of feet in front of her.

Her first thought was that he looked tired and groggy, like he'd been asleep. His stance supported that theory. Patrick was sitting cross legged, leaning back with his hands resting under his elbows.

"I'm fine," she murmured, blinking.

"You had a bad dream," he stated.

"I did not," Teresa replied, shifting her eyes, then cursed inwardly when she realized that she probably gave herself away. She was right.

"Liar," her consultant said with a knowing smile. His hands moving up to his arms to tap his fingers against them with mirth, "It's all about the-"

"Eye contact, yes Jane, I know," Lisbon interrupted from her prone position. She _was_ a cop. She knew how to spot a fib before she ever met the mentalist. She just was never a good liar herself; not to those who knew her anyway. Minelli, Sam, Jane…even when she managed to hold their gaze, they saw right through her.

"I'm fine," Teresa repeated definitively, more to herself than to him, closing her eyes, as if to go back to sleep.

Knowing the woman wanted to avoid his questions, Jane let her.

He wasn't sure what woke him up. Lisbon hadn't made a sound, she never even moved from her position the whole time she was sleeping. All he knew was that he opened his eyes to see hers looking at nothing and her chest heaving slightly in fear.

Patrick took a deep breath then stood up to stretch, rolling his neck to get a few cricks out; a result from sleeping in the uncomfortable chair. He remained standing, when he finished, looking down at his waif-like boss who was preoccupying more than her share of his thoughts. He'd told Lisbon he'd be there when she woke up. But Jane felt conflicted now. Hadn't he decided to stay away from her? It wouldn't do either of them any good to continue this…friendship? Solidarity? Camaraderie?

Patrick wasn't sure what it was, but leaving seemed out of the question, despite how irked he was that she wouldn't share her dream with him. And why did that bother him anyway? He should be glad that she was helping him maintain distance. Wasn't that what he wanted?

The blond ran a hand through his hair as he stifled a yawn, then looked at the time on his mobile. 6:30. He was feeling hungry and remembered that he hadn't had dinner the night before. He'd been too upset; first with watching Todd die, then wallowing in memories of his lost family in his hotel room. But despite his rumbling stomach, Jane didn't want food. He felt cold, an inner chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. He needed tea.

Patrick was trying to remember if he saw a hot beverage machine in the lobby when a dark hand quietly pulled the curtain surrounding Lisbon's bed.

"Hightower, this is a nice surprise," Jane said, pleased.

"I thought I'd drop by before work. How's she doing?" The CBI head whispered, looking at Lisbon on the bed.

"Oh, don't be careful for her benefit. She's just pretending to be asleep so she won't have to deal with me," Jane said with a grin, looking at Lisbon. Jade eyes opened to glare at him, before Lisbon pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"I can't imagine why," Madeline said with a grin.

"I'll leave you two to visit. I'm going to go see if I can't find myself some tea. Would you like anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Hightower replied, taking a seat in the chair. Teresa was too busy playing annoyed with him to reply, but Patrick didn't need her to. He knew how she liked her coffee.

"So how are you feeling?" Hightower asked when Jane had left.

"I'm fine. Really ma'am, there was no need for you to come down here," Teresa said, embarrassed.

"It's not like I went out of my way. It's close to the office. Plus I need to know how long you'll be out."

"Doctor says I'm leaving today."

"Well that's good," Hightower didn't need to ask about the diagnosis. Cho had already filled her in.

Teresa nodded absentmindedly, without looking at her boss. Madeline realized she was gearing to say something and decided to make it easy for her.

"Something on your mind?"

Lisbon finally looked up from her where her hands were stroking the bed sheet to look directly at Hightower.

"Ma'am, why did you tell Jane I was here?"

Madeline wasn't sure what she was expecting to hear, but it hadn't been this.

"Is there a problem?"

"I like to keep my private life separate from my work. I find it isn't useful when the two overlap," Teresa said by way of explanation.

"Well this is a surprise."

"Ma'am?"

"I thought you two were friends." Hightower said, in an almost reproachful tone.

"We…" Lisbon started, but didn't know how to continue.

"At least you act like you like each other," Madeline added.

"We are friends," Lisbon said, confident once she came up with what she deemed an appropriate answer, "and I do like him as much as any other member of my team. But that doesn't mean I want to involve them in my personal affairs."

"Is there anyone else? Why else would you choose Agent Cho to be your medical proxy?"

That one hit a little too close to home for Lisbon. She and her brothers weren't all on the best of terms. She opted for the safe and convenient answer.

"None of my family members live nearby." The fact was stated neutrally.

"That's true," Hightower allowed, "but it's also true that your team is your family. You said it yourself when Jane was kidnapped. That you were the only family he has. Doesn't it go both ways?"

"That's different," Lisbon said, resolutely, "I'm his boss. I'm responsible for him, not vice versa."

"Well maybe you should tell him that, because he sure acts like he's responsible for you."

"I don't understand what you mean," Lisbon said. She actually had a pretty good idea where Hightower was going with this but had no intention of helping her get there.

"Don't be so defensive, Lisbon, I don't mean romantically. Though I admit it had crossed my mind before."

Yes, Madeline Hightower was approaching that thick red line marked 'danger, cross at your own peril', Teresa thought, lividly. She wasn't an idiot. She was aware of how Jane's attentions to her (what was left of them anyway) looked to those who didn't know any better. But besides Bosco, no one had ever dared make any insinuations; not to her face at least. And Hightower _should_ know better.

Seeing her agent's guard go way up, Madeline tried a different tactic.

"Remember our conversation when I first came to CBI?"

"What?" The change of topic confused Lisbon.

"Basically I threatened to fire you if you didn't keep Jane in check," Madeline elaborated

"Yes ma'am," Lisbon answered, not bothering to keep the puzzlement out of her voice. They, rather, Hightower, hadn't started off on the right foot. Teresa didn't understand why her boss would bring up what surely must constitute as a sore subject for both of them.

"Have you ever wondered why I did that," Hightower queried, "besides the reason I gave you of Jane being our most important asset, I mean."

Lisbon stared silently, wishing the older woman would get to the point.

"I had it in my head the only reason you put with him was because you were in love with him."

Lisbon mouth dropped open, then closed, and she sputtered slightly in outrage. Madeline paid her no heed and continued.

"I figured it was only reason anyone would give him so much leeway; after all, his reputation preceded him. And of course I had read your file so I knew you were capable of great things. I wanted you to get your priorities straight; to remind you that your job was more important that some juvenile crush."

Once Lisbon found her voice she couldn't speak fast enough.

"Agent Hightower, I assure you-" she started frostily, but Madeline raised her hand, cutting her off.

"Let me spare you your indignation, Lisbon. I quickly found out I was mistaken in my assumption. Your behavior has been completely above reproach. I quickly realized the reason you work well together is because of your lack of ego; you don't compete with Patrick; rather you listen to his ideas and try to minimize the chaos he creates."

Lisbon was only slightly mollified. Her face was still red in ire and embarrassment.

"If anything, it turned out that Jane was the one I needed to worry about," the CBI head continued dryly

"How so?" Lisbon couldn't help asking. Her interest piqued as she remembered why Hightower started this embarrassing rhetoric; something about Jane acting responsible for her.

"I wasn't here two weeks when he basically warned me against upsetting you, demonstrated that he was perfectly capable of upsetting _me_ if he felt so inclined."

"No," Lisbon shook her head, with an unbelieving smile.

"Yes." Hightower said seriously, watching bewilderment take over her subordinate's face.

"But...you suspended me," Lisbon pointed out painfully.

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well let him think he controlled me. Besides, by that point I realized that while I was mistaken in my assumption of your feelings for him, I was right about his feelings for you. I thought I could use them, get him to behave."

Lisbon was astounded.

"You have to understand why I am telling you this, Teresa. More than the fact that you're the only one who can work with Patrick, you're probably the only one he truly considers important in his life."

"So that's it, you're worried about Jane? Typical," Lisbon added under her breath.

"Don't forget yourself Agent," Madeline warned, her tone gaining a hard edge.

"Forgive me, ma'am, I'm not at my best." Lisbon said, not bothering to check the sarcasm which continued to slip into her tone. If Hightower wanted to unprofessionally butt into her life, Teresa figured she didn't have to be professional about her reaction. "You'll understand why it bothers me that Jane is your concern right now."

"At the moment, it's you I'm worried about," Madeline stated gravely, "You're too closed off, Teresa. Now I know as a fellow female superior that distance is important to maintain a certain amount of respect, but that's not why you do it, is it?"

"All this because I want some privacy?" Lisbon stated incredulously.

"When Jane is the more forthcoming person, then you know you're in trouble."

"Jane? Forthcoming?" Lisbon scoffed in disbelief.

"He's here isn't he?" Madeline challenged. "You on the other hand are acting like he has no right to be. You're isolating yourself. Now I like you both. I don't know what's holding you back from returning his affections, but you shouldn't doubt his regard for you. Although he may not express it in typical ways, Patrick Jane cares about you; selflessly enough to take look out for you without you realizing it."

"Jane only cares about himself," Lisbon said stubbornly, "the fact that he asked you to take it easy on me once doesn't negate that."

"Teresa. Please don't make me say I'm older and wiser, that'll just depress me."

Lisbon's mouth quirked upwards despite herself.

"You're all he has. You said it yourself," Hightower repeated, "Now you asked me why I told him you were here: because it would have been cruel not to."

Lisbon did not want to hear this. Not now. But Madeline didn't intend on stopping, and Teresa couldn't bring herself to try and make her; even if she thought she could.

"I saw how worried you were when he was kidnapped. Imagine if you weren't able to see him afterward. Even knowing he was safe, how would you have felt?"

Lisbon remembered sitting on the couch with Jane after Hightower had rescued them from Rachel. She recalled how ecstatic she had been to be with him, to have him near her, alive in the flesh. Jane had even commented on her big smile; she had been that relieved.

That seemed like such a long time ago.

It took Teresa a while to realize that Hightower had finally finished her lecture.

It took her even longer to gather enough of her thoughts to formulate an adequate response to her boss's impromptu intervention.

"You're right, ma'am. People express their care in different ways. That's true for Jane. It's also true for me. Now I appreciate your concern, but like I said I'm a very private person. Even with those close to me. I don't see why Jane should be an exception."

Madeline frowned. It was not like her Serious Crimes Head to be so obstinate.

"What is it you're not telling me?"

"I don't know what you mean," Lisbon said, carefully maintaining eye contact.

"Does this have anything to do with the Johnson case?" Hightower asked, remembering the argument in her office, and how upset Lisbon had seemed over it.

"Ma'am, it's exactly what I said it is. Please don't read anything else into the matter."

Madeline shook her head ruefully.

"Fair enough," she said, looking at her watch, realizing she stayed later than she meant to. "I'll leave you to rest."

"Thank you for stopping by," Lisbon said, unsure if she actually meant the sentiment.

Madeline gave her an ironic smile; and Teresa knew her boss realized the indecisiveness behind the gratitude.

Once she was alone again, the patient released a big sigh.

Lisbon never would have thought it possible, but Hightower was an even worse visitor than Jane.

* * *

**Authors notes:** I'm actually cross eyed now. This was a nightmare to edit. please point out any mistakes so I can fix them. Sorry for the delay, I couldn't very well include this chapter before finding out if certain events of a certain episode (Red Queen) would render it worthless now could I? Many thanks to all who favorite and reviewed. Those who thought Angela seemed too real: I meant to write her that way to show how vividly Jane remembers her Don't forget to let me know how I did.


	11. Chapter 10

**Mend This Tear- chapter ten**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Lisbon could not disregard the effect of Hightower's words had on her; mainly because they echoed her own guilty conscience.

Teresa knew she'd started to pull away from Jane. Hadn't that been why she went running yesterday? To try to reconcile wanting to be there for him with the compulsion to turn away?

And yet Hightower's statement that Jane was being more open than Lisbon had really shocked her.

It also, as Jane would say, irked her.

_Of course Hightower's on Jane's side now, _Teresa thought,_ I doubt she'd be so judgmental if she knew of his plans. _

Be that as it may, Lisbon was forced to acknowledge that her tendency to detach herself had nothing to do with Jane. Pushing people away had been her MO for a long time…

Ironically, Jane was the only person Lisbon _couldn't _stay away from.

Wasn't that why Minelli took away the Red John case? Because they had gotten too close?

It used to be, when Jane went off investigating alone, Lisbon wouldn't worry and let things be, telling the team that he made his bed. Nowadays, even when they weren't on a case, she'd call to check up on Jane.

Patrick had gotten under her defenses a long time ago. In fact, Teresa had a feeling that he could have completely shattered them if he wanted to.

The fact that he refrained from doing so was cold comfort. It entailed that Jane had the upper hand in their relationship. The thought was very discomfiting given how little Lisbon trusted him.

_Maybe I'm being unfair, _Teresa thought.

After all, Jane never _really_ abused her trust. Not in a way that truly mattered.

Lisbon would never forget how decently he'd behaved when she'd been suspected of killing Mcteer.

Yes, he tried to trick her into thinking he could read her thoughts; said that their minds were in sync. He had also butted into Minelli and Bosco's questioning when her print was found on the murder weapon. But Lisbon hadn't minded; she'd had nothing to worry about at the time.

It was only after she was asked to take a polygraph that the reality of the situation dawned on her, and, Lisbon later realized, on Jane.

He'd prodded, but as quietly as she'd ever known him to. She'd resisted at first then admitted to having memory loss. He'd offered to hypnotize her and she shot him down so fast it boarded on rudeness. Then, for good measure, she flat out told him she didn't want him in her head when Jane continued, ever so gently, to suggest that she could benefit from his help.

Looking back, Teresa felt ashamed of her behavior.

But she knew that given a second chance, she wouldn't have been able to act any other way. She couldn't help it.

The thought of being under someone else's control terrified her. Being hypnotized, having someone privy to her innermost thoughts was just as daunting. And having Jane do it only increased her distress.

The man made her nervous. She had too many things to hide from him, things that still haunted her dreams…

But Teresa had quickly run out of options. And when she'd come to him in desperation, Jane benignly agreed to help her; no gloating, even though she knew he must have been hurt by her earlier rejection.

Lisbon's heart raced with the memory; just as it had when they had entered her apartment that day…

Jane tried to make small talk by commenting on her place, no doubt an attempt to calm her nerves.

Lisbon stopped him, knowing it wouldn't work. She just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

"Let's just do it, let's go." Her voice was practically shaking in fear and she hardly stand still.

She had felt like an injured animal begging to be put out of its misery.

And when Jane refused, telling her he wouldn't hypnotize her, she panicked.

"_Are you kidding me?"_

Suddenly, his hands were on her arms and he was saying calming words; his soothing voice surrounded her. Lisbon felt him everywhere and was soon lulled into a merciful sleep.

She couldn't remember how she'd ended up in her sofa chair. Had he carried her? She did remember waking up, panting with the horrific knowledge that her last resort hadn't worked. She'd joked to cover up her despair.

"_I thought you were the best; I want my money back."_

Perhaps what scared her most was how puzzled Jane himself seemed, despite his saying that he wasn't going to give up easily.

Lisbon then appealed to him to keep the matter a secret, unable to hold the desolated tears which came with the plea.

He'd tried to offer comfort; she couldn't bear to receive it. She asked him to leave, and he respected her enough, was gentleman enough to do as she asked, understanding that she'd relinquished enough control that day to last her a lifetime.

Any more would have broken her.

He had been so sweet…

Lisbon took a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to purge the warmth of the memory.

She couldn't afford to indulge in such thoughts now.

That situation had been different; drastic. She couldn't very well rely on Jane every time she got into trouble, no matter how eager he seemed to be there for her.

Because then she'd start depending on him; form expectations.

And that was unthinkable.

Lisbon knew she had trust issues. Jane had even tried to assuage her once when she'd projected hers onto him. For some reason he'd found it important that she know he'd always be there for her. She'd nodded to acknowledge the sentiment.

So far, he'd kept his promise.

But how seriously could Teresa take the word of a man who was willing to throw his life away? Who hadn't heard her when she said told him that people needed him; that _she _needed him?

"_Some things you just can't fix."_

It had hurt. It had hurt like hell, Lisbon remembered and perhaps for the first time, she realized how much damage that statement had done.

_My issues are not the problem here. His are. _

A headache suddenly assaulted her temples, strong enough to have her gasping in shock.

Lisbon wasn't arrogant enough to assume that she had any sort of power over Jane.

But she'd thought that they'd built a rapport. That the years they spent together would have meant something to him.

And yet, he still planned on murdering Red John in cold blood.

More than ever, Lisbon was sure that Jane killing Hardy had been an impulsive act, done out of reflex.

She was grateful; would always be grateful.

After all, he saved her life. And cleared her name when Roy Carmen set her up, and apparently he tried to defend her from Hightower.

But she didn't want him to save her. She needed him to save himself.

Because, despite how desperately she wanted to, Lisbon could not try to be his incentive to live.

She had been there; she had done that. It didn't work. People who did not want to be saved _would_ not be saved. So why try?

What's the point of getting close to him, of letting him in when he plans on self-destructing, Teresa thought.

Lisbon's eyes filled with tears as the throbbing in her head turned into an incessant pounding, forcing her to shut her eyes.

_Not a headache, a migraine._ Her father used to cause them too.

Still, Teresa was grateful for the pain. She needed the reminder. For her, headaches came hand in hand with heartaches.

This is just a taste, Teresa told herself. The migraines were just the beginning. Pretty soon, the ulcers would follow.

This was why she couldn't let him in. She cared too much. It was an emotional defect; she could never establish a proper equilibrium when it came to her emotions; it was either too much or too little. She gave her all; or nothing at all.

But one thing Teresa would never, _ever_, give up is her control. Letting people in allowed them to affect her. She can't have that. Not with _him_. He affected her too much as it was.

Was she really in the wrong to want to protect herself from him? From the inevitable heartbreak?

From watching someone else she loved kill himself?

Lisbon survived it once; she doubted she'd be able to do so again.

She wanted to live. Was that really so terrible?

Hightower meant well, but she didn't know everything.

If she did, she'd run for dear life too.

* * *

**Author's note: **

I apologize for the angst here but it was necessary. A lot of people have wondered why Lisbon was acting the way she was, and the most recent episode made it even more vital to explore her point of view. Thoughts? I'd like to thank the anonymous reviewers I haven't been able to reply to: MeltedChoccobutton and Mia66. Special thanks also goes to All-I-Need and LittleMender for listening to my rants, and regulars Jisbon4ever, xanderseye. For those who follow my blog, I should have the newest episode review in a few days; seriously, how great was Bloodstream ?


	12. Chapter 11

**Mend This Tear- chapter eleven**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

Jane returned to the hospital to find Lisbon sitting hunched over, her forehead resting on her knees, her fingers entwined in her hair.

"Was Hightower's visit that bad?" he joked.

Something wasn't right. Lisbon didn't stir from her position.

Patrick hurriedly set down the items he brought with him and walked up to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

She flinched, and Jane realized it was because he'd put his hand on one of her shoulders. He removed it quickly, and she finally brought her head up from her knees. Her eyebrows were furrowed in obvious pain. A headache, Jane thought. He recognized the signs immediately; her eyes were narrower than usual, like she was trying to keep herself from wincing at the throbbing. Her face was also tight.

But Lisbon usually hid her pain better than this. At least, she tried to, Jane thought fondly, looking into her clear green eyes. It must be a really bad one.

_A migraine, _he concluded, wondering what Hightower said to her. He didn't bother asking though, knowing it would be useless. Instead, he pulled the chair close to her bed and, sat down.

"How bad is it?" he asked, voice throaty with care.

"I'm fine," she stated in a shaky voice, burying her head in her knees once more. It seemed to hurt less in that position, plus she could hide the tears of pain which kept trying to force their way out.

It hurt so much. Having him near only made it worse.

"I'll be fine," she said, almost to herself. The statement came out in a near whimper, but Lisbon stubbornly repeated the mantra in uneven whispers, as if saying it enough times will make it so.

If he wasn't so worried about her, Jane would have been amazed at her willpower. He wondered if Lisbon ever read up on the theory of self-fulfilling prophecy. It was almost like she was hypnotizing herself.

But Patrick feared she was experiencing an implosion of some sort.

Leaning in towards her, he brought his hands to cover hers where they rested on her knees.

"Yes you will," he said soothingly, stroking the back of her hand. Once more, she flinched at his touch, as if she hated it.

It was difficult but Patrick managed to swallow the rejection and took a deep breath. _She's in pain, and she's always been wary of contact_, he reasoned to himself. Besides, his feelings weren't important here, hers were.

"I could make it hurt less," he said tentatively. Lisbon shook her head, tendrils flowing with the movement even as her face remained hidden in her knees.

Jane was getting frustrated but made sure to keep it out of his tone.

_Lisbon's also always been stubborn._

"Why don't you let me help you?" He said in his most enticing voice.

Lisbon raised watery eyes to look at Jane.

It would be so easy to give in; just like last time. His voice was just as tender; just as smooth.

Like she meant the world to him.

"Why are you here Jane?"

Patrick was a bit taken aback at the abruptness of the question. He decided, under the circumstances, that a straightforward answer was the best way to go.

"Because you're here," he said simply.

"Why?"

Jane studied her. She seemed to be looking for some sort assurance. It wasn't like her, just like it wasn't like him to give it. He liked to keep her on her toes; but that wouldn't do here. Not when she was sick and looking so vulnerable. Besides, he saw no reason to hide the truth. It wasn't anything that he hadn't told her before.

"I'll always be here for Lisbon," he told her easily.

It was the one truth he never had a problem revealing.

Instead of reassuring her, Jane's answer actually made the throbbing in Lisbon's head increase. She rubbed her temples anew in an effort to alleviate it.

_Why does he have to be so nice? Especially now,_ she lamented.

"Now you tell me; why are you here?" Jane asked, unaware of her dilemma.

"You heard the doctor. Apparently, I had an asthma attack," Lisbon answered glibly.

The air had become far too heavy for her taste.

"Why?" Jane prodded.

She could barely breathe.

"Jane, I'm kind of too wiped out to remember medical jargon."

"Was it stress?" Jane specified.

Lisbon opened her eyes and tilted her chin up a bit to look at him. He was frowning, and his eyes were soft with concern. Was that actual guilt she saw there?

"Not everything is about you Jane," she said, answering his unspoken question, "but it's so typical of you to think so," she said with a scoff.

Jane's face relaxed visibly, then he gave her a small smile.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well Lisbon. I wish you'd take me up on my offer. I really can help you."

"You want to hypnotize me," she said skeptically.

"It wasn't so bad last time was it? Beside's I wouldn't be hypnotizing you, just helping your mind overcome the pain. I can do that, it'll make it hurt less."

"For now, maybe, but what about next time?"

Jane's grin grew and his heart warmed at the prospect of Lisbon actually relenting enough to ask for his future assistance as well.

"I can't think of anything that would bring me as much pleasure as helping you Lisbon. As long as I'm around, all you have to do is ask," he told her with an encouraging smile.

Teresa regarded him for a beat before she spoke.

"I'm sorry Jane, that's just not good enough for me."

Patrick's grin froze on his face at her words. Then his mind ran a mile a second as he studied Lisbon, trying to understand what was happening, what she was saying.

She didn't look like she intended to hurt him, but she was far too astute to not know that her words would have. And she should be far too considerate to say them knowing that they would.

So why did she?

What had he said that earned him such a cruel reply? That he'd help her? It wasn't the first time he'd said it. True Lisbon always insisted that she didn't need him to protect her, just as he always insisted that he would. And he meant it. He'd save her as long as he lived-

Patrick's mind came to a staggering halt at that last thought.

Lisbon saw comprehension dawn on Jane's face and knew that the penny had dropped in his head.

He couldn't very well save her if he ended up dead.

Jane slowly moved away from her. First he sat back in the chair. Then he stood up, hands firmly in his pants pockets. Lisbon watched his every move, feeling profound sorrow at the darkness in his eyes. Their gazes met and held for what seemed like forever.

"Duly noted, Lisbon, duly noted," Patrick finally said huskily.

He picked up the bag he'd dropped from the floor and put it on her bed. Then, removing his jacket from where he'd draped it on the chair, he left.

Lisbon opened the bag he'd brought to find a wrapped bear claw and some apples. Her stomach rumbled as she realized that she hadn't eaten anything in almost 24 hours.

She was also astonished to see that there was a coffee cup on the bedside table on her right.

She'd never noticed Jane placing it there, and her eyes widened at the impossibility that she hadn't even smelled the delicious aroma until now.

_How messed up am I?_

Teresa closed her eyes quickly against new tears but they would not be contained. Giving up, she pressed the call button. She'd ask a nurse for an aspirin she knew would not work, then she'd start filling out the paperwork to check herself out. It was almost 8, maybe she could convince a doctor to let her leave before 12. There was no need for her to stay any longer. She'd call a cab; she wasn't some invalid who needed an escort home. Meanwhile, she had Jane's dejected image to keep her company, along with her guilty conscience and empty heart.

**Author's note:** I apologize for the shorter chapter. It seems I'm unable to sift through everything I have written as adequately as I'd like and posting helps sort out the plot in my mind. I'd like to thank everyone who's reading, reviewing, favoriting, and alerting. Having your support really helps the creative process, as do your precious reviews.


	13. Chapter 12

**Mend This Tear- chapter twelve**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Patrick wished the CBI elevator went all the way to the roof instead of ending at the SCU floor. It would be very hard to pretend he was fine this day when he was practically decaying on the inside. He wanted to go straight to his perch without risking anyone seeing him.

But Jane decided it was just as well as he remembered that he needed to get something out of the way first.

Putting on his game face Jane walked into the bullpen. Cho and Grace were there and both looked at him in surprise.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Lisbon at the hospital?" the red head asked. Cho had apprised them of the situation.

"Well, she woke up and apparently an unconscious Lisbon is much better company than a conscious one," he told Grace conspiratorially.

"She kicked you out." Cho deadpanned, not bothering to look away from the novel he was reading.

"You could say that," Jane said, ruing the tiny hurt that made its way into his voice.

"You ok?" Grace asked, taking in his rumpled appearance.

"I'm fine," He took a calming breath before continuing, "She's going to need a ride in a couple of hours. I spoke to her doctor and he said he'll check her out around noon, but I doubt she'll stick around that long."

Jane didn't add that Sherman had given him a card to a psychologist he knew who specialized in couples' therapy. Somehow the man's assumption that he and Lisbon were involved didn't seem funny anymore.

"I'll go, don't worry about it," Cho, looking up at Jane, noting that his eyes looked disturbingly unfocused.

"Yeah," Jane replied, avoiding Cho's lingering stare. Van Pelt glanced back and forth between the two men. She was getting an odd vibe and she wasn't sure it was a good one. Finally the consultant gave out a long sigh and left, mumbling to no one in particular that he'll be upstairs.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"What was what about?" Cho said, flipping a page in his book.

Grace knew she'd get nothing else from him so didn't bother asking more questions.

By the time Jane made it to the roof, the sadness had dissipated and anger had taken over. He stomped into his attic, wanting to make as much noise as possible. He knew the urge was childish, irrational, but he couldn't help it.

The woman was infuriating, he thought, taking off his jacket to throw on his desk.

He knew what spurred this, of course. It was that ill fated revenge conversation they had in her car during the Keeley Farlow case. But while Patrick knew why, he couldn't understand _how_; could still hardly believe that she would say something so hurtful, even if she was being sincere.

"_That's not good enough for me."_

_How selfish can a person be?_ Jane thought furiously, pacing the room.

He just wanted to help her. Couldn't she understand that? She'd saved him countless of times. He just wanted to repay some of his debt. Not that he thought he'd ever be able to but he was willing to try.

Why couldn't she see that he needed that?

Or maybe she could see that. The thought horrified Patrick. Maybe she could and that was why she was denying him.

_The manipulative shrew_, Jane thought wrathfully, incensed at the idea that Lisbon wouldn't accept his help without trying to string him into something more. Something she knew he'd never give.

The rational part of his brain argued that Lisbon couldn't possibly have orchestrated what had happened, that she hadn't known he'd offer to help her; that she'd just made use of an opportunity which presented itself to make a point.

_Okay, so she's an opportunistic shrew, _Jane thought, rebelliously. _It's my fault for telling her I'd protect her. _

What had made him say that anyway? Why did he feel the desire, the need, to gain her trust? Why did he _still_ feel it?

And why did it hurt so much that he couldn't tell her what she needed to hear?

Since when did he care what anyone else thought? How his actions affected anyone else around him?

The answer came to Jane with ridiculous simplicity.

She mattered. Somehow she'd managed to insinuate herself into his miserable existence, has been there longer than he cared to admit, and become very important to him.

It was in how happy he felt when she was happy. It was in how he didn't think twice before he shot Hardy to save her. It was in how he felt a sense of belonging when he introduced her as his good friend and colleague; because she _was _his good friend. And when did he ever have that? The only true friend he ever had was his wife. She had been the only person who'd ever known him, who was able to care about him on more than a superficial level. She had loved him…

He was pretty sure that Lisbon cared about him. That she loved him, even. But more importantly, he'd thought that they'd come to an understanding of sorts; built trust between them.

_Had she been pretending all this time?_

She knew his goal. He'd shared it with her when he started seeing her as more than just a means to an end; when he'd started to genuinely care about her. And he'd trusted her enough to let her in on his plan, despite his suspicion that she wouldn't approve. He'd _talked_ to her. Did that mean nothing to her?

Why couldn't she be content to just let things be? To take him as was and accept his friendship and care while she had it; while she could?

"_That's not good enough for me."_

Her words wouldn't stop replaying in his head.

Did Lisbon honestly think that she could make a statement like that and not have it affect their friendship? Have all the years they spent together meant nothing to her? She would throw it all away just because of what he'll do if he ever catches Red John?

Not if, Jane corrected resolutely, I **will** catch him. And then I will kill him.

And just like that Jane understood Lisbon's predicament; the intensity of his vow provided him with immediate clarity.

He'd exact his revenge, and then what?

Jane shook his head. It didn't matter what happened afterwards. But now that his brain processed the thought, it wouldn't let it go. After all, this was why Lisbon had said what she had.

It all came down to the two of them and Red John.

Now that he'd thought about it, he supposed that the situation they found themselves in now was probably long overdue. That they could have had this conversation the first time he told her he'd protect her. Patrick realized belatedly that despite how sincere he had been when he told her he'd be there for her, Lisbon must have only taken his words at face value.

He didn't know why it surprised him. While he'd hoped the trust fall would have a positive impact on their relationship, it was obvious that Lisbon had only agreed to do it for his benefit.

He had been absolutely shocked when she'd stated that she didn't trust him.

Now he knew why.

Why had he told her of his plans in the first place? Jane lamented. Why had he complicated matters?

Once more, the answer had come to him unbidden, so obvious it was insulting.

She mattered. _She __mattered. _ He'd told her so she wouldn't be shocked when the time came, to give her time to get used to the idea, . Forewarned, forearmed.

_Yes, she's certainly armed herself against me, _Jane thought bitterly.

Lisbon had enough issues as it was; he knew that she'd built a lot of defenses over the years. And he, in a rare moment of honestly, had given Lisbon enough bricks to make her walls thicker and higher than those of the Great Wall of China…

No good deed goes unpunished, Jane thought bitterly, rubbing his face in agitation.

Feeling like a puppet whose strings were cut, his stomping lost its steam as he tiredly lay on his bed. He'd been awake the better part of two days, but more than being fatigued, he wished sleep would claim him because then he wouldn't have to think.

_Right, because wishing for something makes it happen.  
_

Rigsby entered the bullpen, back from a snack run.

"Hey, guys, isn't Jane supposed to be with Lisbon? I saw his car outside," he addressed his colleagues as he placed his purchases into his desk drawer, happy to see it once more full with goodies.

"He's upstairs. He didn't look too good," Van Pelt said.

"Something wrong? He sick or something," Rigsby ask, brows furrowing with concern.

"No, but it seems like boss asked him to leave," Grace said in a low tone, nodding towards Cho who was on the phone. Wayne understood that to mean that Cho had more information about the situation but wouldn't share.

Kimball was talking to Elise. Not something he usually did at work but it was a slow day and she'd called for an update on Lisbon.

"Hang on," he told her, when he saw Rigsby stroll up towards him. "What?" he asked, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece.

"What's up with Jane?"

"Lisbon kicked him out of the hospital and he's sulking upstairs," Cho said blandly.

"Is he okay?"

"He's not the first guy she's blown off and he won't be the last," Cho said matter of factly, shocking Wayne, before bringing the phone back closer to his ear.

"Wait, what? You mean he…"Rigsby's voice trailed off. He was so shocked he didn't realize that he'd reached over to put his hand over the mouthpiece of Cho's phone.

"I couldn't say," Cho shrugged, uninterested in the conversation. But the arson specialist didn't get the hint.

"You think I'm right?" he said in a whisper, referring to his theory that Jane was in love with Lisbon.

"It was bound to happen sometime," Cho deadpanned, before he turned his chair deliberately away from Rigsby.

Wayne wasn't sure if Cho was referring to Jane falling for Lisbon, or his being right.

But the possibility gave him all the impetus he needed to consider braving Jane's attic.

"Kimball?" Elise's voice emitted from the phone's earpiece.

"Yeah I'm here. It's just Rigsby freaking out over Jane."

"I heard. Is he okay? Is she okay?"

"Don't worry, she's fine, Kimball reassured her, "just Jane figuring out he's not as irresistible as he thinks," he added, not bothering to keep his voice low. Clandestine, he observed Rigsby's reaction. If he was a cartoon character his ears would be twitching by now.

"Think you should talk to him?" Elise asked worried.

"It's already covered," Cho said, a rare fond expression on his face as he watched his tall friend walk out of the bullpen.

* * *

**Author's note: **Hello kind readers, I have good news. I just wrote the last chapter. It still needs editing, but it's done. The ones in between need more work though. It looks like 15 chapters will be as far as this one goes; maybe followed by an epilogue. I'd like to thank anonymous reviewers MentalistLover, and Blue. MeltedChoccobutton: Jane's said 'duly noted' in one of the episodes; I rewatch my dvd's for inspiration . I know it's been a bit sad but I do promise it'll get better. Meanwhile, cheer yourself up by reading Little Menders fluffy St. Patrick's Day fic When Irish Eyes Are Smiling or The Kindly Light. You can find it in my favorites. Finally, I cannot thank you guys enough for all your reviews. They were especially useful in the writing of this chapter and I'm sure a few of you recognized your input here :)


	14. Chapter 13

**Mend This Tear- chapter thirteen**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Wayne knocked softly on the door to the attic before slowly opening it. It was his first time up there and he wasn't sure what to expect. Looking around, he found Jane lying on his back on a makeshift bed, eyes closed.

"Jane?" he called out softly, taking a couple of hesitant steps inside. Jane raised his head.

"Oh, hey Rigsby," gesturing him inside, laying back down. He could use a distraction from his toxic thoughts, and the young agent was usually good at providing one, asking Jane to perform magic tricks and whatnot. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"How's boss?"

Apparently, not this time.

"She's fine."

"How are you holding up?"

"Me?" Jane asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"You're worried about her that can't be fun," Rigsby said, somewhat lamely.

"No, Rigsby, it's not fun," Jane stated in monotone, keeping his face neutral.

Wayne put his hands in his pockets self consciously, unsure how to proceed. Sensing his discomfort Jane sighed before sitting up and patting the place next to him, inviting Rigsby to sit down. He had a feeling he'd regret it but Patrick could see that the mild mannered agent needed to talk, and he didn't have it in him to turn the forlorn looking man away.

"What's up?"

"You shouldn't take it personally, she's just always been like that," Rigsby blurted out.

Jane hid his surprise, not a difficult task as Rigsby was looking away from him. It gave the former an opportunity to observe him as he thought about what prompted the consolation. Rigsby hadn't been at the bullpen when Jane had returned from the hospital. Obviously Grace and Cho filled him in on what happened. But even if Jane's depression had been apparent, they wouldn't ask Rigsby to give him a heart to heart. Everyone knew he was somewhat wary of talking to the mentalist. So why was he here?

_Have I become that predictable?_

"I know," Jane answered at length. At his reply, Wayne let out a deep breath, as if he had been nervous of Jane's reaction to his speaking so candidly. It made the man's presence even more intriguing to Jane. He nodded, encouraging the arson specialist to say what was on his mind.

"It's not easy coming from that kind of home," Rigsby continued haltingly, avoiding eye contact, "I mean I don't know how it was, exactly, no one knows. But it's not hard to connect the dots. There are… commonalities between... people like that."

_People like us_, Patrick heard, and everything became clear. It wasn't himself that Rigsby emphasized with, it was Lisbon.

"Yeah I know," he assured Rigsby in spite of his own doubts, "Don't worry about it."

"She'll be okay though, right? I don't mean physically, Cho told me she'll be fine, I mean, she's…stress-wise…" Rigsby stopped, at a loss of how to best explain his concerns, before trying again. "This whole Johnson thing is pretty bad. I hear the PSU is going to do an investigation. She's not going to lose it is she? Like she did over Mcteer?"

Patrick didn't point out that Teresa's psychotic break at the time had been a ruse to set up Dr. Carmen. After all, he'd come up with the plan and he'd still been shocked when that chair went through the window. He could only imagine what it looked like to the team. Like him, they probably suspected that part hadn't been entirely fake.

"No Rigsby, she's fine," Jane assured him, noting his face relax with relief.

Now that the hard part was over words came much easier to Rigsby.

"I would have visited her but I only found out this morning. Plus Cho said she was probably leaving soon, and I'm at work. I doubt she'd want me there anyway. She probably wouldn't want anyone to see her like that," Wayne stated, looking at Jane for confirmation.

"You could stop by her home later after work. I don't think she'd mind that."

"Yeah?"

"Mm," Jane affirmed with a smile, thinking that while Lisbon might be a bit bothered, she'd also be very affected by the gesture.

"Maybe I will."

They both knew he'd chicken out.

"So tell me, 'people like that', how do you get them to emotionally commit? To trust?" Jane asked casually.

"Don't ask me, I have no clue. All I know is that it takes someone truly special; an angel," Rigsby said, looking off in the distance.

_Well then I guess I'm screwed. _

Jane knew he was more of a devil than an angel. More importantly, he didn't believe in such things. It would be more comforting than he deserved to imagine Angela and Charlotte as angels, flying in heaven. He didn't deserve that kind of absolution.

But he knew by 'angel' Rigsby was referring to a certain redhead; that he meant earthbound angels.

And those Patrick did believe in.

"You still love her don't you?" he stated.

Rigsby took in a shuddering breath, and Jane felt a part of his cold heart melt in empathy.

"Let's just say I don't blame boss one bit for preferring to go at it alone. She's a lot smarter than I am," he said, voice husky with emotion.

"You're a lot braver than she is," Jane found himself saying. He realized he wished Lisbon would take a chance as Rigsby had done; not that he wanted a romantic relationship with her, just for her to open up more.

Wayne shook his head.

"Don't say that. Boss is brave, she's plenty brave. She's just doing what she thinks is right for everyone. I'm sure of it."

"How is distancing yourself from your colleagues good for anyone?" Jane asked, inwardly amused at the irony of such a question coming from himself.

He knew what his own reasons were for doing so, but he was interested in hearing Rigsby's perspective on what Lisbon's intentions were.

"It allows her to make the tough calls," Rigsby said simply, then gave Jane a wry smile.

"She still can't help caring though."

"No?"

"You didn't see her when Rachel kidnapped you. She was all over the place, even made a deal to testify on behalf of Linus Wagner in exchange for information to find you," at Jane's puzzled look he elaborated, "Rachel had been in contact with him,"

This was news to Patrick.

"Really?" he couldn't help asking, nor keeping the disbelief out of his voice.

Lisbon would have absolutely hated having to do that.

Wayne nodded.

"And I don't have to remind you how crazy she went when Dylan and Ruth kidnapped you…"

Jane smiled at the memory.

"I'm still trying to forget that night. I have more nightmares about her than I do about meeting Red John," he exaggerated.

Lisbon had been furious with Jane for putting himself in that position; she'd told him to stay put at CBI.

Wayne stood up and walked to the door, then turned around to give a final piece of advice.

"I know more than anyone how terrible unrequited love is Jane," he said, indifferent to Patrick's mouth falling open slightly at his words, "but she does care about you, that'll just have to be good enough. It hurts, but it gets a bit better with time so hang in there."

By the time he finished his little speech Jane had managed to gather himself enough to reply.

"I appreciate your frankness Rigsby, but I think you may be projecting a bit.

_Especially the 'unrequited love' part.  
_  
Rigsby gave him a knowing smile.

"If you say so," he said, leaving.

* * *

**Authors note: **

Guys, I have a confession: I think I love this chapter. Please let me know if you do too Also, I know the last few chapters have been short, but I couldn't pace them better. I'm trying to wrap the story up ASAP as I'm going to get very busy soon and I don't want to leave you hanging as I don't know when I'll able to write again. Hopefully the muses will continue to inspire and reviews will continue to help. Only three more left! Also, to tide us over till the next episode, I set up a post on my blog where you can write out your guess for who Red John's accomplice is. After the 31st, I'll set up a poll where readers can vote on which theory they think is most likely. Come season finale, it'll be interesting to see who got it right, or came closest. You can find the link on my author page.


	15. Chapter 14

**Mend This Tear- chapter fourteen**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Patrick was once more stretched out on his attic bed. He'd done so almost as soon as Wayne left, needing to digest the conversation they'd just had.

_"She was all over the place when you were kidnapped. She cares about you."  
_  
Jane knew that. He truly did.

He remembered perfectly how frantic Lisbon had been when she found him after Dylan and Ruth tried to kill him as a tribute to Red John.

Wesley, whom Red John had left alive, managed to get to a telephone and call for help.

Of course, Jane had had to prompt him into forgetting that his leg was shot, into dragging himself to his murderous classmate's dead bodies to search them for a phone. The amiable young man had gone along willingly enough for the sake of staying alive.

Jane hadn't needed to hypnotize him into forgetting what red John had said to him; Red John had spoken in too low a voice for anyone but Jane to hear what he'd said.

Jane shivered with disgust as he recalled the killer's lingering hands on him.

But the memory of Teresa's hands soon overrode it.

Not that that had been an altogether pleasant experience either...

*flashback*

"Jane? JANE!"

"Lisbon. I'm in here," he called out weakly.

He guessed Wesley must have passed out from the pain and blood loss.

His suspicion was confirmed when he heard Lisbon instruct Grace to bring in the paramedics waiting outside as soon as the scene was cleared.

Following his sound, he heard her step over the bodies, not bothering to stop and check them, and her footsteps continued until she'd found him. She'd stared at him for awhile, eyes wide with crazy relief, before she stormed towards him, gun at the ready.

"I thought I told you to take a damn break," she hissed, looking around, making sure it was safe.

"Yeah, I tried. That didn't work out," Lisbon was about to give him a tongue lashing when Rigsby joined them.

"Hey Rigsby," he greeted the tall agent who told her that the scene was cleared, "you guys think you can get me out of here?"

Teresa holstered her gun, then started to work on the nylon at Jane's front while Rigsby worked on the back.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she spat

"So I've been told numerous times," he'd said blandly, He didn't mean to downplay the situation, it was the only way he could cope.

"I'm going put a leash on you, a collar," Lisbon threatened, pulling at Jane's bondage from the front.

"I'm not a dog, and slavery was abolished in- ."

"Shut up man," Rigsby had whispered close to his ear, pulling at the nylon strapping Patrick onto the chair from behind.

But Jane hadn't been able to and the rest of the team had quickly made themselves busy, fleeing lest a carnage worse than what lay before them occur before their very eyes.

"You're stupid, stupid bastard," she'd stated, continuing tearing at the plastic sheets holding him in place. "I swear I'm gonna kill you myself one day," Jane was about to come up with a smart reply when he saw her eyes filled with tears; equal parts of anger and relief, and his own eyes finally overflowed.

"I'm gonna freaking kill you myself," she repeated. This time her voice shook.

"Careful, I have a witness," Jane managed to say. He had been terrified, absolutely terrified, for his life. He wished his hands were free so he could brush away the evidence of his relief.

But Rigsby couldn't see anything as he was behind him, and Lisbon's own blurry eyes wouldn't make for the clearest vision. Besides, it didn't seem like she heard him. She seemed almost in a daze. In her frenzy, Teresa didn't realize that she had torn some of her nails, that she was gettimg her blood on evidence. She didn't even notice when the nylon layers had ended and that she was starting to pull apart Jane's vest until, he held her hands in his, stilling them.

Her glassy eyes slowly focused. Saw his hands on hers. Only then did it sink in that he had been freed. And only when she raised her head to meet his eyes did it sink in that he was alive and safe.

For the first time since they met Patrick could truly tell what Teresa was thinking. The myriad of emotions in her gaze were as clear to him as his own; that they were conflicting only made them easier to discern. Lisbon wanted to hug him, but also wanted to tear his head off, she felt like holding him and never letting go, but also like punching his lights out, yanking at his curls till they came out in her hands, and slapping him silly. And a part of her, like a part of him, wanted them to kiss the fear away...

Thankfully, the others came in before she did something that no doubt would have cost her job. Pulling her hands away from his, she couldn't help one last expletive.

"You stupid tool!" She spat. Cho's eyes widened and Rigsby's jaw dropped. Only Van Pelt, on the floor with Wesly, seemed to understand what her boss was going through.

Jane looked at her, wanted to hug her, reassure her he was fine, but he couldn't.

"Nice to see you too Lisbon," breaking her out of her trance.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, standing up, back to business.

*end flashback*

It wasn't a memory Jane indulged in very often as it wreaked havoc on his already taxed brain. But this time he was grateful for Rigsby for reminding him of the incident. He supposed it wasn't surprising that Rigsby recognized that with Lisbon, actions spoke louder than words. After all, he was the same.

But that didn't mean that the young Agent had been right about everything…

_Unrequited love is a terrible thing..._

Jane remembered using the exact same phrase in Lisbon's presence a few months ago. State lobbyist Harvey Dublin had been kidnapped and his secretary had been begging Patrick and Teresa to find him. Jane told her that her boss was probably dead and that it was a blessing for her. He'd noticed how overly concerned she was and said that unrequited love was a terrible thing, adding that she needed to find someone who loved her back. Notwithstanding the woman's need for the advice, Patrick thought it would benefit Teresa to hear it as well. Although she hadn't seemed particularly affected...

Jane frowned. Could he have been projecting his emotions?

Was Rigsby right? Was he in love with Lisbon?

He certainly liked her. But more importantly he respected her. In fact, his increasing regard was what had made him cease all flirtation with the SCU boss.

It had been after the first time he'd shared his intention of torturing Red John to which she'd replied that she'd arrest him in the event. Jane was afraid that his casual overtures would affect her despite herself; that _she'd_ fall in love with _him. _He hadn't wanted to put her in a situation where she would have to make a choice between helping him and following the law.

At least that _had_ been his incentive.

Jane sighed and turned on his side.

In retrospect, he knew that those feelings were nobler than he could pull off now. Especially considering how blind sighted he felt by the current situation. For the first time he painfully felt the truth of what Minelli had known since last year: he and Lisbon had gotten way too close. At least, _he_ had, anyway. He foolishly wanted her trust, her proximity, while she wisely held back, preparing herself for the worse.

Patrick could never have imagined that such a scenario would be possible and the ridiculous irony was not lost on him. He was now left having to reconcile what was more important to him now: Lisbon's trust or Red John.

It shouldn't be a hard choice. Hadn't he already decided that he wouldn't let Lisbon's naive hope to arrest the man get in his way? Red John was getting closer which meant Jane was getting closer. Whoever killed Todd was Red John's mole. All Patrick had to do was find him. The stakes were as high as they ever were and he couldn't afford to let anything get in his way.

So why did the prospect of doing what he had to do make him feel ill? Why was it becoming increasingly harder to keep things from Lisbon?

Jane felt he was getting migraine of his own.

_I should have stuck to my plan to distance myself from her._

**For a while there I thought you'd actually figure things out for your own, but now your back to your stubborn ways. **

_Nice of you to show up, Angela._ Patrick snapped inwardly. He needed a second opinion and his mind's conjured Angela was very good at providing that; even if she was irritatingly blunt and was sounding more and more like himself than his sweet wife.

**How is staying away from Teresa going to help matters?  
** _  
You heard Rigsby. It's sure helping her do what needs to be done, to take me out when the time comes.  
_ **  
Patrick, don't be so obtuse. If she wanted to take you out she would have turned you in the day you told her of your plans.  
**  
_She probably would have except she knew I would have denied saying it.  
_  
**Maybe. Or like she recently confided, she believes in you.  
**  
_She's a hypocrite. If that were true, she'd let me in.  
_  
**She tried to once. It didn't work.  
**  
_When? When did Teresa the impenetrable ever let me close?  
_  
**After she saved you from Hardy.**

I_ saved _her_ from Hardy. _

**Before you shot him, in the basement, when she arrested him.  
**

_You mean when she let Red John escape?_ Jane pointed out harshly.

He'd come up with the perfect plan to lure Red John. He'd known that he'd come. After all they were presenting him with the most enticing bait: Patrick Jane. He was the tethered goat, and Lisbon had been supposed to wait until the prey bit. She hadn't.

More than angry, he'd been disappointed, and disheartened that his plan had failed; that his ultimate prey had fled in what should have been his final ruse…

*flashback*

"_You should have waited."_

"_You'd be dead," she had been horrified that he didn't seem to care. _

"_But you'd have Red John," he said earnestly. He _didn't_ care if he died. _

"_I think you'd choose life."_

"_Then you think wrong," he'd said blandly._

"_No, no _you_ think wrong. Can't you see there are people that care about you that need you? You're acting selfless and childish and I want you to stop!"_

*end flashback*_  
_

He'd known Lisbon had been upset with him. She'd treated him to some tough love and when that hadn't worked tried to console him with the fact that they had Hardy who would talk, and that they'd saved a life. It didn't work. Lisbon had finally left him to wallow and after a few minutes he managed to pick himself up to go outside. Watching her with Maya Jane felt awkward and sorry for his display; he'd never intended to ever reveal his apathy with regards to his life to her or anyone else. He'd also had a disturbing feeling that in his moment of despair he'd done something, said something damagingly wrong, but he wasn't sure what.

But when he shot Hardy he figured that saving Lisbon's life would be enough to rectify whatever harm he had inadvertently done.

Only now did he realize what it was that had angered Lisbon so: the feeling of helplessness at her inability to make him care about his own life.

In a heated attempt to convey that his life mattered, Lisbon had gotten as close as she ever could to telling him that she cared about him, that she needed him, But he'd been so wrapped up in his own emotions that he'd trampled over hers without ever realizing their significance; or the damage his rejection would do.

Tears of regret filled Patrick's eyes.

**There you go. **Angela said, encouraging his epiphany.

_Of course Lisbon could never get over something like that, not with her history, _he said, berating himself for his stupidity,_ And even if she could, I'm in no position to help her. _

**She's scared, **Angela agreed approvingly.

_That I'll hurt her again, _Jane stated, _and I can't even promise her that I won't._

**So I ask you again, how will staying away from her fix any of that?  
**  
_I'm not sure, but it might be better for her; for both her safety and her sanity. It's the solution she's reached after all. _

**For lack of other options. You, on the other hand have plenty. **_  
_  
_No, I don't. Red John has to die. And if I have to stay away from her to kill him then I will. I can be just as stubborn as she is. _

**Not as selfless though. You need her. She's your lifeline. **

He knew there would be no end to this argument; his words and Angela's were becoming blurred together until he wasn't sure which side he was on anymore.

_I can be selfless when it has to do with her safety_, Jane argued weakly, knowing he was no match for Saint Teresa. Not when she'd already absolved him from having to consider her...

"_People who are close to me, bad things happen to them," _he remembered telling Lisbon.

She'd responded that it wasn't true and that she was a cop, it was her job to be in harm's way. Lisbon wasn't concerned about the danger.

Apparently, despite his macho act, he wasn't either.

The day they found Kristina, he'd found himself back on his couch in the bullpen. He had felt shaken to the core and needed Lisbon's proximity. He hadn't even cared about what Stiles had condescendingly told him: that Red John felt jealous, that he wanted to take away everything he held dear…

Jane felt the world tilt on its axis…

If a small timer like Rachel knew about his friendship with Lisbon, had wanted to kill her in front of him knowing it would devastate him…

Even Angela was shocked at his overdue realization.

**Jane, did you seriously think that Red John doesn't already know...**

Jane remembered Todd, arrogantly saying that there's a reason for everything he'd done. If that was true, then killing cops was a warning…to him.

Jane shot out of his bed and looked at his watch: 11:15. Grabbing his jacket he rushed downstairs.

"Rigsby!"

"What is it?" Wayne looked up from his computer screen to see Jane looking around the bullpen. "What?"

"Where's Cho," he asked distractedly.

"He went to pick up boss," the younger man replied, bewildered.

"When?"  
"About ten minutes ago."

Jane headed towards the CBI elevator. Cho wasn't that fast a driver. And since he left early he'd probably take it slow. Jane would have to get to the hospital first.

He needed to talk to Lisbon.

* * *

**Author's note: **

Navigating through Jane's mind is hell. Please let me know if this made sense or if it was too wordy and confusing. It would really help me decide how deep I should go in the next chapters. Also, I think this fic just got extended two more chapters. You can blame Jane for that.


	16. Chapter 15

**Mend This Tear- chapter fifteen**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Patrick arrived at the hospital just in time to see Kimball walking out of it.

Alone.

"Where's Lisbon?"

If the Senior Agent was surprised to see him he didn't let on.

"Nurse said she left about an hour ago."

"And her doctor just let her?" Jane asked in surprise. He'd pegged Dr. Sherman to care more about his patients than to just let them check out alone.

"Nurse said they couldn't stop her since technically she's fine. Doctor was working a double shift and didn't have the energy to argue with her. Lisbon threatened to arrest him if he didn't let her go," Cho said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Jane returned the grin as he imagined poor Sherman's reaction. But the consultant's mirth didn't last. He had something important to do. With a quick nod goodbye to his colleague Jane turned to go back to his car when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked backwards to see the senior agent looking at him intently.

"What can I do for you, Cho?" Jane asked lightly, covering how anxious he was to leave. He remembered how un-obliging Cho had been recently and hoped whatever it was he had to say, he'd say it quickly.

Kimball wanted to ask Jane about Kristina Frye. About why he seemed to think what happened to her was his fault despite the woman obviously being done in by her own ambition. He wanted to know if his suspicions that Jane was holding out on the team were legitimate. He also wanted to ask why Jane and the boss seemed so strange together ever since Todd Johnson was killed.

He couldn't. Not after he'd seen Jane barely holding it together watching Lisbon unconscious on the hospital bed. Not when the man looked like he'd aged ten years in the last two days. Not when he knew where Jane would go now. Kimball didn't think it was a good idea.

But he couldn't say any of that. So he had to settle.

"You two okay?"

Looking at the stoic agent looking uncharacteristically worried, Jane knew feigning ignorance wasn't an option. If it didn't work on Rigsby then there was no chance it would work on Cho.

"We will be. Don't worry about it," he said, trying to sound surer than he felt.

Cho's face indicated that the attempt had failed. But he removed his hand from Jane's shoulder. Patrick still felt its weight even after he got into his car; part threat, part plea.

Watching Jane drive away, Kimball picked up his phone and dialed his boss's number.

Teresa was in a bad mood. She had taken a shower as soon as she'd gotten home, to wash away the dirt and exhaustion of her short hospital stay after her ill fated run.

But the cleansing ritual had done nothing to ease her migraine, nor did it help settle her stomach, where the apples and donuts which Jane had brought her remained stubbornly refusing to be digested.

She'd changed into her favorite jersey, brushed her hair and tried to settle down for a lazy day at home. She turned on the TV but realized she hadn't recorded anything on her TiVo in ages and couldn't find anything on to interest her. She kept picturing Jane; the lines in his face deepening as he understood that she wanted him to leave her alone, his desolated figure as he walked out of her sight in the hospital, the weary shoulders…

The images just made the pounding in her head louder. Teresa had taken aspirin at the hospital after Jane had left but it hadn't helped. She was trying to remember if it was safe to take something stronger so soon when her phone rang. It was Cho.

"Hello."

"Hey boss, how're you doing?"

"Fine, thanks."

"You don't sound good," her second in command said, blunt as ever.

"I just have a splitting headache, don't worry about it."

"You home?"

"Yes," she affirmed in a tone that wondered where else he thought she'd be.

"I figured as much. I'd gone to pick you up from the hospital but you'd already gone."

"Thanks Cho, but you really shouldn't have."

"Jane said you needed a ride. Guess he was wrong."

Teresa stomach burned painfully at the warmth she felt knowing that her consultant asked Cho to pick her up. She wondered fleetingly how was it that a nice gesture could hurt so badly before shoving the thought away.

"I'm perfectly capable of flagging a taxi, Cho. Besides, you've already done more than enough. Thank you for bringing over my file."

"Forget it, what are friends for," he said rhetorically. Again, the friendliness of the words actually caused her pain, a mixture of warmth and uneasiness. Teresa vowed to never need anyone's help again. It wouldn't do appear weak in front of her subordinate, Teresa thought, before tuning into what Cho was saying. "Listen at the risk of worsening your headache, you should know that Jane's probably on his way to your place."

"What? Why?" Lisbon asked stunned.

"Well, he came to the hospital to pick you up, even though we'd agreed that I would. He looked like he needed to talk to you about something."

_Crap_.

"What did he do anyway?" Kimball asked.

"What makes you think he did anything?"

"He looked guilty as hell."

"Maybe I should get sick more often," Lisbon joked to cover up her dread.

"Yeah. Anyway, doesn't take a detective to figure out where he'll go next."

Under different circumstances, Lisbon might have called out Cho on his assumption. Not this day. She was still (fruitlessly) trying to kick Hightower's speech out of her mind; set it free as Jane would say. And while Cho wasn't much of a talker, his words could be as sharp as his wit. She'd rather not deal with whatever his opinion was on Jane's demeanor towards her.

"I don't think he will, Cho, but thanks for the warning anyway. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're coming in?"

"Yes. I'm fine now, just have to start being more careful to not skip on my antihistamines."

"Guess you will," Cho said, letting Lisbon know he thought there was more to it than that. She ignored his skepticism. "Have a nice day boss."

"You too Cho, thanks again."

]'Hanging up, Teresa told herself not to panic. Whatever it was Jane wanted would wait until tomorrow. Looking at her watch, Lisbon saw that it was only noon. Probably, since he didn't find her in the hospital, Jane would go back to work, or wherever else he's been disappearing off to.

_I do not need this, I do not need this, _Lisbon said inwardly over and over, in time to the drumming in her head.

Jane sat in his car parked in front of Lisbon's house. He'd been sitting there for 20 minutes fighting himself. The time it had taken him to arrive to her home from the hospital had served to calm him down somewhat, and make him rethink what he had come to do.

He'd go to Lisbon, then what? Tell her that he thought she might be targeted by Red John? She'd want to know how he came to that conclusion. He couldn't tell her about Todd Johnson's message, because then she'd ask how he knew that it referred to Red John, then he'd have to tell her that he'd lied about Red John not saying anything to him after he saved his life…

He could already see the disappointment on her face. It wasn't a look he ever wanted to see on her. Sure he'd kept things from Lisbon before, all in the spirit of surprising her, of showing her that he _was _good for something, of impressing her with his cunning.

But this, she would take this secret personally. Because this is the one case he would not solve for the bureau. This would be for _him. _And that would hurt her because she still held out hope that he'd see that "violence wasn't the answer". _The naïve fool,_ Patrick thought. _She refuses to see me for what I am. _

He tried to tell her. He told her that he'd kill Red John, that the reality of the situation will be different than what she had in mind. And yet, for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to give her the ultimate proof that there was no hope for him: tell her the secrets he'd been hiding from her. If she knew...then maybe she'll really start to believe that he was a lost cause.

And as much as Jane loathed her hope, he wouldn't deprive her of it either. If she of all people stopped believing in him…then he really was done for.

Despite what Teresa may think, Patrick didn't want to die after killing Red John. _She_ made that happen.

Jane hit his head firmly on his Citroen's steering wheel. What was he thinking? What did hope matter? He needed to kill Red John. End of Story. Lisbon wouldn't let him do hence can't tell her anything.

But maybe he could get her to see reason. After all, this wasn't just about his revenge anymore.

Fully charged once more with adrenaline, Jane got out of his car.

* * *

**Author's note:** Hello everyone. Yes I'm alive. Sorry for the disappearing act. The last episode's review really did a number on me. I couldn't even look at a computer screen for days afterwards. Then I got sick, then my baby girl broke her arm, and Prof's keep hassling me to submit my work in early…ugh. Anyway, I'm back now 'and hope to have the next chapter out before the next episode airs. It's the last chapter and has been done for a while now but I'm working really hard on making it perfect so that it'll (hopefully) live up to expectations :)


	17. Chapter 16

**Mend This Tear- chapter sixteen**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Teresa was massaging her temples on her couch when the doorbell rang. She got up to open it when it rang again, followed by steady knocking. She winced at the loudness.

"I'm coming, already!" So much for hoping Jane would leave her be for the day. The man had the patience of a five year old when he'd made up his mind to do something.

Reaching to unlock the door she was careful to school her expression to not betray the suffering she was in. As soon as Patrick heard the key turn, he turned the knob himself and made his way inside her condo. She saw him take in her place probably comparing it to the last time he was there. He glanced once more at the photo of her bothers then walked towards her living room before stopping to look up the stairway.

Annoyed, Lisbon opened her mouth to make a snarky remark, something in the vein of 'make yourself at home, why don't you'. But it died before ever making it to her lips when Jane suddenly rounded on her and she saw how his face was even more drawn than it had been at the hospital.

Jane started to say something before he too was rendered speechless when he caught sight of her. He seemed oddly shocked and disturbed, and Lisbon saw him avert his eyes and swallow. Looking down at herself, she wondered what was wrong then figured that if he looked tired then _she_ must look half-dead.

Annoyed at how self-conscious his reaction made her, Teresa opted for her favorite defense; sarcasm.

"Is it really that bad? Cut me some slack, I was in the hospital."

Her misinterpretation had Jane studying her carefully as she walked into the kitchen and turned on the electric water heater. It was the opposite. Yes she was paler than usual but it only made her look more ethereal; she was breathtaking; all five feet and four inches of her. Angela was right. Although he'd seen Lisbon in a jersey before, the sight affected him more now than it had last year. _Why was that?_

Jane gave himself a mental shake. He'd come here to talk to her, not to notice how amazing her legs were.

Since Red John clearly had no interest in killing Jane, his killing cops could only mean one thing...he was targeting Lisbon. But Patrick wouldn't tell her any of that. He'd let her think this was about his revenge. He didn't care if she thought he was being selfish. Telling her would be a pointless risk. After all, if she wouldn't break the law to help him she was even less likely to break it to save herself.

_Saint Teresa. _He thought it with equal parts frustration and regard; noting that the conflicting emotions have become a common theme for him these days.

The thought that Lisbon might find herself at the wrong end of the man's knife had him frantic. His sudden attraction only added to his ire with the woman and he quickly found his tongue. But neither the words that came out, nor the fervent tone they were spoken in were part of the plan.

"You always said you didn't need to be saved, that you don't need to be protected, that I should include you in my plans. This is me being straight up with you, Lisbon. Help me."

And that was why he had come. Jane wasn't an idiot. He knew he'd have a much better chance at stopping Red John with Lisbon's help. Now if he could only get her to agree on that one point then he'd be more than willing to share all he knew with her.

It only took Teresa a beat to catch up. Despite how unreal it felt that they were outwardly discussing the matter, she'd imagined having this conversation with him countless times. She just never thought he'd be so up front with her, would sound so vehemently desperate. The sight moved her and left her coming up empty on how to best answer him.

"Of all the things you could have told me Jane, why this?" Lisbon finally said, shaking her head in despair. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she looked at Jane in hopeful wonder, "Unless you _want_ me to stop you."

Jane's demeanor turned so icy her insides practically froze. Had she really been feeling sorry for him scant seconds ago?

"You think wrong," Jane shot down the possibility with a hard scowl, "Really, woman, are there no limits to your optimism?"

"Fine," Teresa quickly conceded her error, but she still wanted an answer. This was something she'd always wanted to ask. "So why did you?" She asked once more, studying him as she prepared his tea.

Jane looked at Teresa searchingly. Would she believe him if he said he'd wanted to spare her the shock the day he killed Red John, that he felt he owed it to her?

Not likely. She didn't trust him.

Lisbon looked up from her task to note that Jane was as poker faced as ever. This led her to believe that he was taking extra care to hide his emotions which entailed that her query must have hit something pretty sensitive. Before the silence stretched too long she rephrased the question.

"I mean, what did you expect would happen when you told me?"

Jane hadn't actually thought of that. The day he'd told her of his plans, they had been arguing about justice and vengeance. He'd stated there was no difference between the two, and she'd disagreed. Her opinion had surprised and irked him. He'd thought he'd known her better than that, and to test his theory, he'd told her what he planned to do with Red John, to see if she'd stand her ground even knowing what he had in mind.

_Yes. No. Yes, that was part of it, but it wasn't all. _He'd just wanted her to know. For some reason, it was important that she know…that he know…

Patrick's conflict was more visible on his face now, and it worried Teresa. Deciding she didn't really need to know his reason she quickly added sugar to the tea she'd prepared and approached him.

"Sorry, I don't have a cup and a saucer," she said, offering his favorite beverage in a mug.

Jane took the opportunity to collect himself. This wasn't going as planned. She was supposed to answer his questions, not the other way around. Taking a sip, he looked over the mug's rim to see Lisbon's inquiring gaze upon him. No doubt wondering what it was about her question that managed to derail his thoughts so much.

_That makes two of us_, he thought, taking another fortifying drink. He'd have to relay the deciphering of his thoughts for later. For now he had to stick to his plan. If he spoke to Lisbon rationally she was bound to come around. She had to. _Her life was in danger_

He took one last sip before placing the half full mug on the nearest flat surface, her desk. They were still standing just in front of her doorway. Neither had made an attempt to move the conversation to the living room since he'd arrived; it was something else he'd ponder later. For now, he needed to get back on track.

"Why, Lisbon?" he started the conversation anew, feeling much calmer, more in control, hoping Lisbon would go along with the do-over, "Why are you being so stubborn about this? You know he has to die."

"No, Jane, I _don't_ know that," she answered readily, finding the current conversation more predictable, hence safer, than the past one. "And besides, how he dies makes all the difference in the world. You can't do what you say you will without expecting it to change you. You don't know what it's like," she stated emphatically.

_This was unexpected, _Jane thought. No recital of the rules, codes or ethics. Was it really his soul she was worried about it?

"I've killed before," Jane reminded her, putting his hands in his pockets, exuding confidence he didn't feel.

"Not in cold blood. It changes you," Lisbon repeated earnestly. "I've seen it happen."

The partly open box in Jane's memory palace labeled "Sam Bosco" pulled itself out of storage.

"Did it change Bosco?"

Lisbon lowered her eyes furtively, and something in Jane's head clicked loudly into place.

He had always been irked that he hadn't been able to tell that Sam and Lisbon had history. But he'd consoled himself with the fact that there simply hadn't been any clues to be seen.

After the man's death, Jane had given up ever understanding their relationship. He'd understood Sam perfectly, but Lisbon, there was something conflicting between her obvious respect and fondness of the man and how little time she actually spent with him. In fact, prior to the Unit Head's taking over the Red John case, Jane never saw them have a single conversation.

Now he knew why. Satisfied his mind had officially solved the case, Sam's box was finally allowed to be shut completely before being pushed back into storage.

"It didn't," he said watching Lisbon walk nervously to her tiny desk, rearranging the items there. "It didn't change him at all, and that's why you left him."

"We were never together, Jane." she replied before she could stop herself. Too late she remembered that any reply to the mentalist, even a denial could be dangerously telling. She held up her brothers' photo, gazing at it in earnest, to keep him from seeing her eyes; her mutinously revealing eyes.

But Jane was already passed that.

"Not as lovers, maybe, but as soul mates." He watched her put down the photo and pick up another frame. This one of a handwritten tattered piece of paper, he guessed it was a bible verse that must have some special significance. "You loved and respected Sam. But after he killed whoever it was he couldn't catch everything changed. After you found out, you couldn't get over your disappointment in him. That was the cause of your estrangement."

Teresa put down the second frame as well to give Patrick a pleading look. He was getting way too close the truth. But he was on a roll and was undeterred.

"And me, you probably don't even think I'll live long enough to let you down. You think he'll kill me."

Looking for something else on the desk to fiddle with and coming up empty, Lisbon picked up Jane's still steaming mug from her desk to return it to the kitchen. Only Jane stayed her with his hand on her nervous fingers. Waiting for her to meet his gaze, he spoke his next words slowly and deliberately.

"Lisbon, I assure you I have no intention of dying."

"Sure you don't," she snapped. Pulling her hand from under his, she went to set the mug in the kitchen sink before returning to give him an accusing glare, fists balled at her sides.

His suspicions confirmed, Jane uttered a long sigh into the floor.

Lisbon was scared of getting close to him only to lose him, either figuratively (if he kills Red John) or literally (if Red John kills _him_). The fact warmed him even as he regretted that her fear and principles getting in the way of their friendship and her safety.

He wondered if he should tell her he didn't think he was as ready to lay his life on the line as he used to be, and that it was mostly because of her. But again, the fact that she didn't trust him meant that she wouldn't believe him. And he wouldn't try to convince her to either, not when he himself didn't know what he'd do when the time came. All he knew was the Red John would end up dead, preferably as painfully as possible.

Lisbon was probably right; if need be, he would sacrifice himself to get Red John.

He just wouldn't be as apathetic about it.

Somehow he doubted that would make a difference to Lisbon. If he wanted her companionship he'd have to up the ante. He walked around a bit, biding his time until he was able to come up with a new strategy. He got one by the time he reached her door. Turning to lean against it, he regarded her challengingly.

"Whatever happened to thinking I'll make the right choice? See that violence isn't the answer?" He asked, crossing his arms, watching with interest as Lisbon unconsciously did the same.

"You mean assuming you live long enough to make that choice?"

"Yes, let's assume that," he said seriously, frowning at her incredulousness.

"I still believe that. But that doesn't entail acting recklessly."

"Acting recklessly? Please, do explain."

Teresa sighed, thinking of the best way to convey her reasoning. Luckily it didn't take her long.

"In a firefight, you don't throw yourself into the open and hope for the best," uncrossing one arm to make a flaying gesture, "No. You put on your Kevlar first, pray that you'll make it out alive, and keep your head down even as you're exchanging shots to take out the bad guys."

Teresa didn't add that you should always have back up; people you trusted enough to cover you, to put your life in their hands. She didn't need to.

Watching her, Jane figured as much. He'd been thinking it this whole time, and now she'd practically come out and said it. "_I don't trust you." _It stung, _he'd saved her life, _but Jane let it go for now.

"How very rational Lisbon. Spoken like a true cop," he said, his voice that patronizing lilt he knew she hated.

Apparently, he couldn't let it go completely.

Lisbon winced, and with an inward start Patrick realized it wasn't just at the bitterness in his voice. _Her head still hurts. _How had he missed it? It was clear as day from her rigid stance, and from the way she now took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to hold in the ache. And like in the hospital, was once more overcome with the fierce desire to make it go away. But first things first.

"I'm guessing I'm the bullet in this analogy?" he asked rhetorically, uncrossing his hands to gesture to himself before hiding his fists in pants' pockets.

"You're my consultant, Jane, a member of my team. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe; including protecting you from yourself. That's _my_ job," she finished strongly.

Despite her valiant attempt, Jane didn't miss the pain flickering on her face as she spoke.

"Bravo. I must say, that was very good," Jane said, staring at her intently. This time Lisbon didn't break eye contact. Jane could see how resolute she was in her decision and was once again torn in his admiration for her and his irritation with her.

But more than anything, her stance stirred something within him. Playing hardball was _his_ game.

He grinned, a humorless grin.

"I wish I had such a _convenient _excuse for wanting to save you," he stated in . Watching with satisfaction as Lisbon's eyes shifted, he continued before she could recover. "Unfortunately I don't," Jane shrugged, "so think of this as a consolation prize for when I kill Red John," he said, taking a long stride towards her.

"What are you doing?" Lisbon asked, warily backing away further into the apartment, but before she could get far, Jane reached out and clasped her hand, pulling her firmly towards him, feeling her pulse race under his fingers.

With practiced ease, Jane kept firm hold on Lisbon's wrist with his right hand, as he raised the other to the side of her head. He wove the fingers of his left hand into her hair and once he had a firm hold, ensuring that she wouldn't be able to get away without scalping herself, he released her wrist so that he could do the same with his right. When both hands were resting on either side of her head, fingers tangled into her hair, he pulled her close and looked deep into her startled eyes.

Lisbon felt the air leave her lungs at his proximity. She could see his thick gold tinted eyelashes, count the individual wrinkles on his face.

_Dear God. _

She could _smell_ him; like warm sunshine. She knew it sounded ridiculous but that was the only description she could ever come up with to fit his fresh musk. It was stronger than usual this day, no doubt from spending all night with her at the hospital; but not unpleasant. The man was so lazy he never seemed to work up a sweat. And as pathetic at is sounded, the scent was actually nostalgic. It reminded her of the rare instances they were in such close proximity. Waking him up at the attic after spending the night there, being stuck in a crate together…hiding under a table at Judge Fitzwilliam's home.

But only one other time had her pulse racing so much she felt her heart would either burst or stop. It had also been in her home when he had hypnotized her. She realized that they were standing in the exact same spot. And that wasn't the only similarity.

Now, like then, she was absolutely terrified.

The knowledge brought Teresa back to her senses. Air suddenly rushed back into her lungs, making her chest heave uncontrollably, almost brushing Patrick's; so close were they. Lisbon quickly tried to concentrate on taking slow deep breaths to calm herself, but that only made the situation worse. She was practically breathing him in; his scent heady, suffocating.

Was he trying to kill her?

"Jane," Lisbon gasped, moving her hands to his chest to push him away.

But Jane started talking then and the gravely tenor immobilized Teresa, leaving her hands in place on his chest.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel it. This lazy sense of belonging, of knowing someone will always be there for you no matter what."

Lisbon started to argue the impossibility of his contention but words failed her when Jane started to massage her temples with his thumbs and stroke the back of her head with his fingertips.

She was barely able to stop herself from moaning. It felt so good.

"Can you feel it? This relaxing connection between you and I. Two tired, so tired souls, the sleepy daze of regard, it can hurt, I know it's hurting you, but it can also feel good, soothing. Imagine if you could just let go of the pain, feel your headache slipping away, flowing into my fingertips, because we are one. I am you, and you are me. Your pain is mine Lisbon."

This time Teresa couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped her.

The pain really was fading under his ministrations; a result of the magical mixture of his soft, almost sultry honeydew voice and miracle hands that knew exactly where the pressure was in her head, and how best to stroke to alleviate it.

"I know you've been worried about me. And despite your fears, you still try to look out for me, try to keep me from my demons. You think I don't notice but I do." He was almost whispering now, his voice going even throatier with gratitude, before almost catching at the next truth, "I worry about you too…" _more than you'll ever know. I can't lose you... _

Patrick had to take a deep breath before he was able to continue. _  
_

"That's why it's okay for you to let go sometimes. Let go of your pain and I'll bear it for you. You can feel it can't you? You're migraine flowing away from your head, flowing into me?"

Lisbon hummed in reply, then opened her eyes, wanting to see him, this amazing man who was healing her as she stood in her condo.

Jane was starting to feel dizzy himself, the jade of her eyes the only thing that made sense anymore, along the softness of her hair under his fingertips. I_t's like our souls are entwining,_ he thought, allowing his eyes to fall loosely shut in gentle concentration as he continued his blissful massage. He was in his element.

"You don't have to worry about anything and you don't have to think about anything. Leave that to me. I can handle it. In fact, it gives me strength."

Teresa could barely concentrate on what Jane was saying. She was too swept away by all the pleasure he was bringing her. She felt like her head would fall off her neck with all the tension that had left it.

"Your pain doesn't hurt me," Jane repeated, his soft words caressing her heart, soothing it, "it empowers me. It feeds me strength, to go on, to live, to keep on living."

"To be free of control," Teresa mumbled mindlessly, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.

"Exactly," Jane whispered approvingly, gazing at her lovingly through hooded eyes.

"To let go of the pain," she added, reveling in how easy it was to lose herself in him, and how safe she felt. While Teresa still feared losing control over her emotions, she no longer feared _him._ Somehow her brain now differentiated between the two.

Jane was simply awe-stricken. He'd never had anyone respond so easily to one of his exercises. What started as a simple procedure to alleviate her suffering had resulted in something so majestic it could only be called sublime. He could almost feel himself and Lisbon floating away as she continued his quiet spiel, easily picking up from where he left off.

"We need to move on," she stated in a barely discernible whisper.

"Yes," Jane murmured, hanging onto her every word.

"You need to let go of the past," Lisbon breathed.

Jane's fingers stilled, and his eyelids flew open to study her, his own chest now heaving. At the arrest of his ministrations on her head, Lisbon opened her eyes as well. Their cathartic connection broken, the friends gazed dazedly into each others' eyes; both trying to grasp what she had been doing. What she had done.

To her credit, Lisbon looked as shocked as Jane was. But even as comprehension dawned, they stood as if caught in time; surrounded by the silence and the strength of the spells they had cast on each other as they gradually came down from a higher plane.

It finally got to be too much. With a final brush of his fingers through her hair, Jane lowered his hands into the safe haven of his pants pockets while Lisbon concurrently brought hers away from his chest, but not before noting how erratic his heartbeat had become under her palms. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her; knowing that something had forever shifted in their relationship. Feeling Jane's boring gaze, she waited for him to say something.

It took a while.

"Funny, I'm a mentalist too," Patrick finally said. His voice was still low but had gained a decidedly dangerous edge to it.

The corner of Lisbon's mouth curled up a tiny fraction in nervousness…and pleasure.

She never thought she'd be able to get one up on Jane. The best part was that she hadn't even been trying. It just happened.

"Oh please don't bother hiding that grin for my benefit. You're obviously very happy with yourself aren't you?" Jane stated.

Lisbon cleared her throat before giving him an honest answer.

"Sorry, I lost myself for a minute there."

"I'll say," Jane retorted softly, looking at her with piercing eyes. Somehow it was even more disturbing that Lisbon had done what she had unconsciously. The woman was dangerous. "You actually thought you could hypnotize me into getting over my revenge."

The intensity of his stare gave her goosebumps. Looking away, she rubbed her arms repeatedly but did not say anything.

"You're even more naive than I thought," Jane continued, trying to illicit a reaction from her. But Teresa had decided to quit while she was ahead. Her prolonged silence unnerved Patrick.

"I'll do it, Lisbon. You have no idea how far I'm willing to go," he threatened.

She resisted another shiver. She didn't doubt his words one bit. And yet, the desperation in his voice, the zeal in which he tried to convince her of his intent actually detracted from its validity. _Could it be…?_

"If you thought my lying to Hightower was bad, it's nothing compared to what I'm willing to do," Jane continued, with a sneer.

Lisbon finally found her footing.

"Whatever you say, Jane."

How could she have missed it? The best way to get through to him was to refuse to lower her expectations of him.  
Or at least pretend to. It was a risky gamble; she might end up believing in him only to be bitterly disappointed.

On the other hand the return was too great to ignore. He might start believing in himself; maybe even live up to her hopes.

Jane made her favorite sound again; that guttural hum- only this time it almost sounded like a growl.

_He's frustrated,_ Lisbon thought gleefully, knowing that meant she was probably on the right track.

Feeling ridiculously hopeful, she thanked God for whatever angel breathed the idea into her ear.

Patrick shook his head, beyond annoyed. He wasn't prone to violence but he really felt like punching someone just now.

Mostly, however, he wanted to wipe the serene look from Lisbon's face; he just wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or slap her. The idea horrified him but not enough to stop him from acting on impulse.

He pulled his hands from his pockets to grab her head once more. It was nowhere near as gentle as before. Instead of the delicate massage, his fingers firmly grabbed onto the strands close to her scalp. It wasn't painful, but Teresa felt a definite tug at her roots.

Pulling her close Jane leaned over to place a rough kiss on her bangs. Lisbon's skin tingled where his lips brushed against her forehead and Patrick was satisfied to see that her eyes had gone as round as saucers. He kept his hold on her hair firmly, making sure she looked at him as he spoke.

"You hold onto to your dreams Lisbon if they keep you warm at night. It's the least you deserve."

His fingers flexed once more in her hair, tugging the strands affectionately. He gave her another kiss on the forehead, this time allowing his lips to linger softly. Teresa was so lost in the moment that she didn't realize it had ended until Patrick had disappeared from her line of vision. She was so taken aback that she thought he'd pulled a magic trick on her. But when she heard her door open she realized he hadn't left yet and turned to catch a final glimpse of him, wanting to see his face after what had just happened, after what he'd done. She was disappointed to see that his back was pointedly turned on her, ignoring her even as his hand lingered on her doorknob. Finally, he leaned a bit sideways to address her general vicinity.

"Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

* * *

**Author's note:** The last chapter! All that's left now is the epilogue. There are a few loose ends that I'm not sure if I should take care of now or in the sequel, so it'd be really helpful to get an opinion on that. Also, please let me know if there are any specific issues you'd like to see addressed. I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I know I did and I really hope it's lived up to your expectations. As always, thank you so much for reading and your support!


	18. Epilogue

**Mend This Tear- epilogue  
**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

* * *

Patrick was extremely peeved when he left Teresa's condo. Getting into his car, he mulled over three very hard truths his visit to her home had made him face.

The first was that trying to convince Lisbon to allow him to kill Red John would be a waste of his efforts. She simply and truly didn't believe in revenge.

The second was that at least part of Lisbon's stance was due to her refusal to accept Jane's capacity for murder…her refusal to accept him for he who he was.

And the third was that her doubt was making him question his own ability to do the deed.

They were three hard facts, three very good reasons for Jane to be extremely upset and disgusted with Lisbon.

And he was. But there was one thought, one truth which overrode all others.

He was in love with her.

She was unapproachable, unattainable, and untouchable. She stood for everything that annoyed him: authority, faith, conventions, rules, order.

And he was absolutely, irrevocably, head over heels, in love with her.

It was disturbing, to say the least.

But there was nothing to it. Jane didn't love easily, and now that he did was too smart to think he'd be able to hypnotize his mind, his heart, into an altered state. That only worked for marks who believed he had secret powers.

Jane knew he had none; at least none that would alleviate his infatuation.

Not that he wanted to.

Because despite Lisbon's aloofness and all her annoying virtuous vices, there was one thing she had going for her that enabled him to forgive all her other sins.

She had saved him.

Jane never considered what he'd do after he killed Red John; though the glum possibility that he would finally join his family's state of nothingness was always on the back of his mind.

But she'd given him a reason to live.

She made him want to start over, consider a life after revenge. One which he would gladly spend by her side; in whatever capacity she'd allow.

His heart raced with sugary pink possibilities…images of desires he never imagined he'd ever want again flashed in his mind… maybe even a family…

"Hey, watch it!"

Jane hit the car's brakes just in time to stop from running through a red light and slamming into an innocent pedestrian crossing the street.

"Sorry," he called out weakly.

And reality hit him.

What was he thinking; a life, family? None of that would be possible with Red John on the loose. The hell he didn't believe in would freeze over before Jane would risk moving on only to have Red John gleefully deprive him of his happiness once again.

Patrick had no doubt in his mind that this was Red John's new game, that killing cops was his sick idea of giving him fair warning.

Red John had to die. There was no question about it.

The light turned green and Jane drove on, his thoughts turning darker by the second.

If he killed Red John, would a future with Lisbon still be on the table?

Jane had no intention of going to jail. But even if he got away with murder from the law, Lisbon would never forgive him.

If his earlier conclusion was true, that one of the reasons Lisbon insisted on stopping him was because she couldn't handle his becoming a murderer…then killing Red John meant losing her.

He'd lose his newfound reason to live, because Saint Teresa wouldn't want to have anything to do with a murderer.

She'd practically cut Sam Bosco out of her life after he'd killed whoever it was he couldn't catch. And this was a man who, according to Lisbon, she "respected and admired".

Jane had no such assurances as to how she felt about him. Sure, he _hoped_ that she found him and his antics cute sometimes. He knew that she found him attractive. But he also knew she hated his guts. Heck, she acted like she barely tolerated him most of the time and was only nice to him when she was worried about him. Only then did her natural motherly instincts trump her determination to remain impervious to anyone and anything; especially Jane. Unless…

_Damn. _

Who was he to presume Lisbon loved him? She might stand for everything which irked Patrick, but _he_ undoubtedly represented everything she despised. He was a lazy non-believing charlatan. The only reason she kept him around was, as she said, "to catch a lot of bad guys". Any care she felt for him was obviously a result of nothing more than familial concern.

"_Unrequited love is a terrible thing."_

Once again Jane's statement a few months prior came back to haunt him. He'd honestly said it in her presence because he thought she needed to hear it.

Jane laughed bitterly to himself. _And I thought Rigsby was projecting! _

He'd obviously been speaking from his own subconscious which had known how he'd felt.

_Too bad it didn't bother giving me a head's up…_

Or had it…?

"_Of all the things you could have told me Jane, why this? What did you expect will happen?"_

He didn't have the answer when Lisbon asked him that question not twenty minutes ago in her foyer, but he sure had it now…

_How could I have not have realized it?_

It was true he felt she deserved to know what he had planned. It was also true he needed to know where she stood on the matter to plan his revenge accordingly.

But more importantly, he'd done it to test her. To see how she felt about his ideals, to see if she'd be able to live with them; with _him. _

_Well, so much for that. _Jane thought miserably.

"_You need to find yourself someone who will love you back." _

He'd said that as well, again for Lisbon's benefit.

He should have taken his own advice.

He'd fallen in love with a woman who would never, could never love him  
back.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Let alone love, he wouldn't even have her friendship after he killed Red John.

"_We're a family! What you are doing is a kind of betrayal, you're letting Red John win."_

She'd set it in a moment of rare passion, angry at him for distancing himself, something he'd done for her sake, for her safety, after his run in with Red John.

How betrayed would she feel when he kills Red John? When she realizes that her expectations of him were for naught?

The thought of facing her disappointment, her disgust with his actions, would be more than he could bear.

Lisbon was his salvation, but she could just as easily destroy him. The fact that she had absolutely no idea over the power she held didn't make him feel any better. It just meant she'd have less reason to take her actions, her _reactions_ to him into consideration. She'd kill him without ever knowing it.

_So, now what, boy wonder?_ Patrick thought to himself.

The risk of losing Lisbon suddenly took on an entirely new shape.  
The danger her strict ideals posed to their friendship was just as real as Red John's threat to her safety.

Jane drove around aimlessly for hours, thinking.

He thought while he grabbed food at a diner near his motel.

By the time he got ready for bed he'd come up with a pretty good plan on how to find Todd Johnson's killer. Lisbon had told him the Professional Standard's Unit would conduct an investigation. Essentially, all he had to do was keep an eye on it and make sure they did their jobs. Their killer would be his lead to Red John.

But when it came to saving his relationship with Lisbon, he got nothing.

After brushing his teeth, Jane looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and tried to find a silver lining.

"So I kill Red John and she hates me for it, big deal. Dying of heartbreak is more than I deserve. I'd still go out better than Angela and Charlotte did," he told himself out loud.

But that night in his bed, and for the first time in his life, Patrick Jane cried over a woman who was not his late wife.

**The End**

* * *

**Author's note:** Hello Everyone! First of all, I'm so sorry for the delay. After finals I couldn't write anything before I got The Mentalist Finale review out of my system; it took me over a month to finish. Then I had such a hard time deciding how to continue this despite all your helpful comments. I swear, for such a ridiculously short chapter (which I apologize for, but that's how it turned out) , this was probably the hardest one to write.

I'd like to give a huge thank you to all of you whole helped out with reviews and made suggestions as well as to all who favorit-ed and alert-ed. Knowing people were out there and reading really helped get me off my butt and continue writing. But most of all, it forced me into making decisions with the story I would have been too wary of making otherwise. I tried to keep it as in character as possible and truly hope I haven't disappointed you with the ending and that you'll continue to inspire me. Speaking of inspiration, I'd like to give a huge thank you to Liv Einziger who, after reviewing the chapters consecutively, allowed me to rope her into being my beta for this chapter. That being said, any mistakes are mine.

Also, for endless support and enthusiasm, special thanks to All-i-Need, Little Mender, Jisbon4ever, MeltedChocoButton, Kuhlama, xanderseye, Blue, Kate, CharmedNightSkye, jas, The Agent of Chaos, Aurora-Stormwind, SakuraAkira365 Mostlybooks, Bloody Vyvyan, Hikaru Ceres, mia66, Jazz248, the Pheonix's song, UptownGirl, and Merriwyllow.

Now many of you wanted to see further development in their relationship and so do I. But I just couldn't bring myself to veer off the events of season 3. I'd said "Bloody Trust" was this story's sequel but now that Jane's realized his feelings, I'd rather explore the events in between, leading up to that story. I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull it off (or if it'll be worth it) but I'd like to try. So I'm going with what most of you suggested, an entirely new sequel. It'll be called "Red Season of Change" and will pick right where this one leaves off with episode Jolly Red Elf. But it'll probably be a while before I start posting. For once, I'd like to finish a story before I start uploading it's chapters...Thanks again for reading and please let me know if the chapter worked for you (or if it didn't).


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